


All Magic Comes at a Price

by SpookshowBabyx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 58
Words: 117,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookshowBabyx/pseuds/SpookshowBabyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Emma and Mary Margaret disappear through the hat, Regina vows to find them and bring them back to make peace with Henry. On the other side, the three find themselves first at Cora's mercy, before journeying to the Land Below Water to barter for aid from the Sea Witch, who- if legend is to be believed- is known for her rather salacious and twisted tastes when it comes to payment.<br/>Slow burn Swan Queen.<br/>Some dark subject matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Season 2 fic attempt so be gentle with me- slightly AU, takes place after the wardrobe burning stint, but things are more or less explained as this goes along- it just differs a little from the shows chain of events.

_"This has to work."_

The brunette mutters to herself, as she angrily wipes a traitorous tear from her cheek and inserts a pair of tweezers into a slim, glass flask with shaking hands. Easing up her fingers to release the metal teeth, she watches intently as a raven-black silken strand falls softly down into the glass cocoon to rest atop a shorter strand of chestnut brown. Her grip on the glass is so tight she's in danger of shattering it, as she stares into the flask with wide, blood-shot eyes; begging mercilessly that this will work.

It _has_ to.

_"Where's my mom, where's-"_

_"They're gone- they fell through a porthole- they... Henry I'm, sorry._

_"No you're not... You really_ are _the evil queen... I don't want to see you again!"_

_"Don't... Don't say that... I love you!"_

_"Then prove it! Get Emma and Mary Margaret back! And until then, leave me, leave_ everyone _alone!"_

"Oh Henry..."

It comes out as little more than a choked sob, as she tries to push away the memory of the look on her son's face upon finding her with Charming at her mercy. She feels as though her nerve endings have been fried with the sheer emotional overload of those torturous forty-two hours. She's had to deal with her son's death- partially by her own hand- made all the more painful by the fact that it was the blonde's- the _Savior's_ \- kiss that awoke him, before scurrying home with all the dignity of vermin so as to avoid being exterminated as such. She doesn't know- or want to think about- what would have become of her had Emma- the _fucking_ Savior- not taken it upon herself to play the "valiant hero" and stand between her and those she had wronged... She is unsure she cares... Not after the degradation of accepting protection from Snow and Emma, as the world she had built crumbled in front of her very eyes, before losing them as that thing- that Wraith- pulled the blonde down with it into the depths of that despicable hat; Snow following her without pause in a way that hurt Regina's _own_ heart, as she had been left with nothing.

The months of failed attempts to rid herself of Emma Swan, only for her to find herself mercifully free of the younger woman, and yet still no closer to getting her son back.

The week following the two's disappearance has been pure hell. Her mind has become muddled, as after that first night- lying corpse-like on Henry's bed- her world has become a cider-clouded haze. She has tried everything she can think of, has even regained her _magic_ \- its source something she has continually puzzled over and pushed hurriedly aside as she recalls a flash of frightened green, and a pale hand at her elbow- and yet nothing has come even _close_ to working.

Until now.

She sits on the decidedly lumpy mattress in the loft room of Mary Margaret's apartment, her skeleton keys lying splayed out beside her. The walls are relatively bare, save for a few cheap prints of inane landscapes, and she knows they will have hung here long before Emma claimed the room. There are almost no indicators at all that the room belongs to the blonde; a bottle of whisky a shot away from empty on the nightstand and a plain, black bra hung forlorn over the spindle at the foot of the bed the only signs of inhabitance in the otherwise sterile room.

At her feet lies the hat. Not the hat that moronic buffoon of a Prince managed to crush so fatally- _quite the reunion indeed; trapping wife and less than enthusiastic child in another world-_ but the slightly wonky, slightly frayed _attempt_ at a hat she had managed to procure from Jefferson. _Emma's_ hat. And now, as she stares unblinkingly into the glass- the short hair taken from the collar of Charming's coat and the longer hair taken from the schoolteacher's pillow curling together- _finally_ she feels something happening. In front of her very eyes, those delicate strands begin to move of their own accord- entwining together like rope- as the glass glows in a way that makes her maddeningly homesick.

"Yes..."

True love had ended up being the most powerful magic of all, and here again it stands the test of time. She knows the hat shouldn't work, but the reasoning behind that whole argument had been lack of magic.

And now she has it.

Magic created from one of those she seeks, the hat fashioned by the other, and she knows- _hopes_ \- that if anything will bring her over to the two lost women, it will be this.

With baited breath and unsteady hands, she rises slowly from Emma's bed and lets the glass vial drop gently into the hat without a sound. A moment passes- a mere second but it feels like forever- and then things begin to happen. She feels the power that ebbs into the room- crackling and electric- raising the hairs on her arms with its delicious force. The hat begins to spin, slowly at first, but then at a fever-pitch, and she takes one last look around the bare stoned walls, before closing her eyes and letting it take her.

* * *

"You!"

Regina struggles to sit up; having landed painfully on a surface that feels cold, hard and damp beneath her exploratory fingertips. Brushing her hair from her eyes and wincing at the bite of pain emanating from her abused tailbone, she waits for her vision to adjust to the near darkness while searching out the source of that all too familiar voice.

Once she's acclimatized to the dingy light thrown into the room by a singular candle, she is able to make out the dark, iron bars that separate her from the corner that serves as the source of the voice.

"...Snow?"

The younger woman recoils slightly at the use of her name, and the brunette can understand why. It has been a separate nightmare trying to deal with the dual realities within the town now that the curse has broken. For herself, it is a burden she has always carried, but for the rest of the town's inhabitants, the notion has been most disorientating.

_All magic comes with a price._

Regina gets to her feet and walks hesitantly over to the bars that line the apparent dungeon; head spinning a little with a sense of deja vu as she recalls approaching Mary Margaret in much the same way in the two-cell prison back in Storybrooke. The schoolteacher is pale- more so than usual- and her right eye sports a muddy scrape. Her dark hair stands messily up on end and her clothes look worn and dishevelled. It is her eyes, however, that draw the Queen's attention; red and bloodshot as though she has spent a good many hours crying. The raw skin below her nose seconds this observation.

"Where are we?"

Snow blinks at her stupidly before perfectly red lips form an angry sneer

"Like you don't _know_..."

The brunette looks around once more, but is no closer to an answer. She is momentarily distracted by the faint echo of banging up above and what might have been a cry, but she supposes this last part could just be her imagination. She turns her attention back to Snow, placing her hands on the bars and staring through them at the young woman intently.

"I wouldn't be _asking_ if I knew, dear. Where's Emma? What's happening?"

At this, the pale woman chokes back an angry sob as she glares at the Queen; pushing herself up to rush forward to spit her words in the darker woman's face.

"Why don't you ask your _mother_?"

"My mother?"

The confusion on the brunette's face is painfully sincere as she raises a brow apprehensively; knowing instantly that this is anything but a _good_ situation if her mother is involved.

"She found us... She _tricked_ us... She was in the pit with us- Lancelot's pit- and she spoke with Emma... About Henry."

" _What_?!"

"When we got away, but she found us... Followed us to the old castle and took us. That's where we are now... This cell was built for Rumplestiltskin. She threw us down here after she ambushed us. She thinks we can give her a way back to Storybrooke... Back to _you_!"

Regina balks at this, feeling a shudder work itself involuntarily through her body.

"...What does she want with me?"

It is a whisper; the fear coursing through her normally rich tone almost childlike as her eyes search Snow's. The younger woman glares back at her hatefully.

"I don't know! I don't _care_! I don't care what she wants from _you;_ whatever it is she can have it! I just want my daughter back! I want Emma back!"

"Why?... What do you mean? Where's Emma?"

Mary Margaret shakes her head, her eyes bright with angry tears as she controls her breathing and continues in a harsh tone

"She took her- Cora- she _took_ her. She came down here asking for information; information _we didn't have_. She threatened us and toyed with us and did everything she could think of to get her way; to get us to talk. I told her- _we_ told her- we didn't _know_ how to get back to that other land... She got tired of 'games'... The _Savior_ had been prophesied to break the curse and it came to fruition... She thinks Emma knows how to get back to Stroybrooke...Back to you."

"How would _she_ know!? She barely even knows who she _is_! What is Miss Swan going to know about the ways of _magic_?"

"... Nothing"

"So... What...?"

"Your mother believes her silence is obstinacy. She believes she can get the _Saviour_ to talk."

"But she doesn't _know_ anything!"

"That's what I'm worried about..."

Regina regards Snow sombrely through the bars; resting her forehead on the cool iron with a wince. Of all the places she was expecting to come through, this is a scenario for which she hadn't been prepared. Eyeing the bloody scrape on the younger woman's face, she struggles to remind herself that the woman currently bearing the brunt of her mother's wrath is toxic. Hateful. The source of _months_ of contempt.

_She helped you when no one else would._

True. But only because she'd made a promise to their son.

_My son!_

Nevertheless, the brunette can't help the nauseating fear that creeps loathsomely in the pit of her stomach. Wishing the blonde gone and knowing the results that have come from her mother's rage are two very different things, and if she wishes for Henry to take her back, she needs to find Emma before her mother tires of playing twenty questions.

She refuses to entertain the possibility that this has already happened.

"Where did she take her? Are they still in the castle?"

"I don't-"

A piercing shriek echoes through the wet stone walls, causing both women to jump. Regina looks up at the schoolteacher in shock as Snow closes her eyes as tightly as she possibly can

"-Yes... They're still in the castle."

* * *

The destruction she leaves in her wake could have been- for the most part- avoided, but the nervous energy flowing through the Queen's veins makes her careless, and she renders any guards she encounters unconscious as she makes her way uncertainly around the castle. On the third floor, she comes across the destroyed wardrobe in that long abandoned nursery; the charred remains scattered forgotten across the time-dirtied floor.

"Oh..."

She listens out desperately for any hint as to her mother's whereabouts, but so far she has been rewarded with very little. She supposes that this is favourable in a way, as she still can't quite seem to shake the harrowing scream heard down in the dungeon from her mind. A part of her psyche busies itself repeating nervously that the noise could not _possibly_ have come from Emma, while another part asks the question- just as repetitively- of why she should care if it had.

_Henry. That's why._

As she begins to think her search to be fruitless, a turn into the centre hall of the castle finds her suddenly accosted with the low murmur of a voice she would recognise anywhere. Shrinking close to the tapestried wall, she removes her heels in order to refrain from making any noise as she pads onwards on seamless-stockinged feet. She despises hiding this way- crawling around on her underbelly in the shadows- but the rich, sing-song tone of her mother's voice brings back enough memories to have her ignoring this particular strain of distaste.

As she creeps closer to the Crowned Court- hall that plays residence to the infamous round table- she is able to distinguish words from that low murmuring.

"Come on, dear, I don't like this any more than _you_ do... But we've been _over_ this! All I want is for you to be a good girl. All I want is your _cooperation_... I don't _want_ to hurt you... But you're making it necessary, and that saddens me!... Look, we're both tired, I know... _Look at me when I speak to you!_... We're both tired... So why not stop with this foolishness? Hmm?"

Her mother's voice is syrupy sweet as it washes over her in a way that makes her feel unclean. Regina shudders and closes the distance to the large, arched door that stands slightly ajar; holding her breath as she peers warily into the glowing crescent of light. What she sees makes her mouth go dry; the resulting taste of copper making her want to double up and dry heave.

Her mother stands in the centre of the room; royal purple robes moulded lovingly to her aging body. She has the sleeves rolled back as though preforming a particularly strenuous task and her cheeks are alight with twin spots of pink excitement. She stands with her back to the door, but Regina knows that dark eyes will be glittering feverishly beneath hooded lids as she smiles down at Emma, who sits with her back slumped against the far wall. At first glance, the younger woman's posture could be mistaken for casual, perhaps even _disrespectful_ given her company, but her eyes are closed and her breathing is rapid as her dust-covered form trembles. A thin trickle of blood that looks almost black from the Queen's vantage point flows sickly from her nose to seep in at the corner of her mouth, and the knees of her jeans are ripped and bloody.

"Emma, Emma, Emma, why must it come down to this? Why can't you just be _good_? What _purpose_ is all this insolence serving? Who are you hoping to protect? Henry? I give you my _word_ I will not touch the boy... All I want is to see my daughter... A mother and daughter's bond is _precious,_ you of _all_ people should know that... Now, tell me what I want to know! _How do I find her_?!"

"I... Don't... Know."

"Wrong answer."

Cora remains completely still, seemingly in thought over how best to tackle her current problem. Regina knows better however, and- despite the older woman making no move towards her whatsoever- the blonde's frantic breath becomes a sob as her eyes crack open to regard the witch fearfully; fingers spasming feverishly against stone as a second freshet of blood begins to stream from lips pulled back in unseen agony.

"Please... Stop!"

"I will stop when you start behaving yourself!"

" _I can't tell you something I don't fucking know!_ "

Emma barks her words out, baring her teeth angrily at the woman before her, and Regina is momentarily transfixed with morbid curiosity as she wonders if her mother has ever been spoken to in such a way. The blonde's teeth- so adept at sneering and scoffing- are coated with sickly red saliva, and Cora cries out angrily at what she is positive is a bold-faced lie.

"I have tried to play _nice_ , you worthless little bitch, but I'm getting tired of listening to you lie through those pretty little teeth of yours... I will ask you _one more time_ , and if you don't want that charming smile ruined for good, I suggest you quit this futile act and give me what I want!"

She stalks over to the crumpled heap on the floor with predatory purpose and leans in close to hiss into the younger woman's pale, fear-filled face.

"How do I get back to your world?"

Bloodied lips open and close but form no sound. Closing her eyes, Emma merely shakes her head defeatedly; struggling to string together _any_ sentence that isn't 'I don't know'. Never in her life has she felt she's known so little, and the fact that it is at a time when her existance could well hang in the balance causes a weak, ironic smile to touch the corners of her mouth involuntarily.

Not a good idea.

Despite everything that has happened up until this moment, the blonde is still perplexed as she feels her body leave the floor; the sensation of floating not nearly as enjoyable as various television shows had promised it might be.

It is quick; just a flick of a well-practiced hand, and the younger woman is thrown backwards into the stone slabs behind her. There is a sickening crack of bone on rock as Emma's skull smacks into the brickwork, before her head lolls- instantly limp- and Cora keeps her suspended for a moment longer, before discarding her to the floor like trash. The sorceress then makes her way over almost casually, and reaches down to place a hand over the blonde's chest.

_"Don't!"_

Cora's head snaps up sharply; sure she recognises that voice. She has little time to think on it however, as the owner jumps on her; much closer than anticipated.

The taking of the heart is quick, as if simply preformed as a reflex. Regina holds the glowing organ momentarily in her hand, her mind reeling as the woman below her claws weakly at her extended arm; her powerful face suddenly haggard with understanding.

"I always hated it when you used magic, mother..."

She sheds a tear as she crushes the heart into dust, much the same as she had shed a tear over her father all those years ago, but the feeling behind the solitary droplet couldn't _be_ any more different.

"I always swore I'd never become like you... Never let magic corrupt me the way it did you... But, you _ruined_ me... You took away my chance at a happy ending..."

She lets the ash fall from her hand to scatter over the lifeless form she resides over, before wiping her palm repetitively on her skirt; trying to rid her fingers of the dusty residue. With a business-like sniff and a shaky hand dragging through her hair, she makes her way hesitantly over to the blonde, who lies crumpled where she fell. Kneeling down primly on the hard stone floor, Regina places a hand hesitantly on a bare, lightly freckled shoulder and shakes gently.

Rewarded no response, she tightens her grip and pulls Emma over until she lies on her back; brushing away the long tendrils of cornsilk that cover her battered face. She lowers herself down until she's nose to nose with the lifeless blonde and stares into closed eyes intently as she raises a hand to feel for breath. Finally feeling a faint flutter of air against her skin she sits back on her knees and closes her eyes; taking a deep breath and trying to decide what to do.

A soft moan brings her back to the present, as Emma begins to move her head in a distracted manner; battling to regain consciousness. Regina notes a thin stream of blood dripping from the Sheriff's ear with mild alarm and raises her voice sternly

"Stop moving, Miss Swan."

Ever true to character, the younger woman's thrashing increases as green eyes flutter open and she looks up at the brunette blearily.

"Wha... hap'nd?"

Her voice comes out in a croak as the blood from her mouth has started to clot uncomfortably. Her disorientated mind makes the senseless connection between the dark woman kneeling over her and cool apple cider and she licks her lips hopefully.

"You swore at my mother... Definitely not your best move."

"I feel like... I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"You look it, too."

Regina offers, pulling a silk handkerchief from her breast-pocket and wetting a corner with her tongue; swiping the damp fabric gently over the blonde's upper lip and chin to wipe away the drying trails of blood.

"Gross!"

Emma wrinkles her nose as Regina continues to wipe at her with her spit-wetted handkerchief, causing the brunette to roll her eyes and come to the conclusion that- even with possible brain damage and blood seeping from god knows where- the blonde remains as contrary as ever. She is quick to catch the infuriating women in her act however, as that all too familiar smirk turns into a grimace of pain.

"I mean it! Hold _still!_ Who _knows_ what she's broken!"

The worry in the brunette's voice seeps slowly through the pain working its way blindingly at the Sheriff's thoughts, and she can't help but feel a little comforted by it... Regardless of the fact that she's coherent enough to know she's more than likely imagining such things.

_It's almost motherly..._

"Oh god, Mary Margaret! Where is she?!"

"Hold still! She's fine, dear... It's _myself_ I worry about when she sees the state of you..."

"How did you... How _did_ you get here? How-"

Pain begins to steadily beat down the initial numbness she'd been blessed with upon wakening, and the blonde's words are alternated with harsh gasps as her eyes squeeze shut in a futile attempt to block it out. Regina places a finger firmly on bloodied lips to silence her.

"Let's not start that again, dear. First let me sort you out, and _then_ we'll get to the story-telling."

"But-"

"-No buts"

"...Whatever you say, Your Majesty."

Emma mutters, as darkness promises to swallow her mercifully and stop the aching that seems to be coming from just about everywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, first off, thanks for the response to the first part of this story. I had originally just planned on leaving it as a one-shot, although I realise I neglected to mention this... However, I was really pleasantly surprised by the amount of lovely people that decided to follow the story (thanks!) and I didn't want to leave you all hanging! Fortunately, the storyline seems to be carrying itself; most of this being written on the back on an invoice at work today. As always, enjoy, and if you do, maybe let me know by leaving a review! It really does make my day!

Despite the old ways of the Enchanted Forest often seeming dated and obsolete, the Queen can't help but appreciate her current surroundings as this now plays in her favor. It is a land ravaged by a monarchy into which its inhabitants place not trust, but _dependence_ ; thus upon witnessing the current ruler of the castle to be lying dead on the floor, the inhabitants who scurry in the darkness accept her as their new leading force without question.

She is their Queen.

Regina watches blankly as two armed guards proceed hesitantly into the large hall in which she still kneels, and she gives just the faintest of nods as strong hands pick up the fragile frame of her mother and carry her respectfully out to be dealt with in an according fashion. A third makes his way towards the brunette, bowing low and keeping his eyes trained to the floor.

"Your Majesty, shall I take this one?"

She frowns in confusion, before her eyes flicker down to the blonde and she shakes her head.

"No, I don't wish to move her before knowing what's wrong with her. Fetch me your healer."

"...My Queen, we no longer have a healer; Cora used her powers to aid those of us who deserved it."

"Then get me some soap and water and whatever dressings you have."

"As you wish."

Regina sighs, before calling after the retreating man with an irritated afterthought.

"And bring up the woman from the dungeon, but leave her hands tied."

He bows low once more and makes his way swiftly from the room. The brunette muses absent-mindedly that the way others act when in her presence barely differs, whether it be here or in Stroybrooke. No one ever wishes to be around her for long.

_Except Emma._

_She_ had refused to scurry away, even when it would have been highly _advisory_ that she do so.

"Ever the pain in the backside, aren't you dear?"

Of course she is met with no reply, and she comes to the conclusion that unconscious is the form in which she likes Emma best.

She begins the unnerving task of running her hands gently over the blonde's body; feeling apprehensively for any broken bones. However irritating the Sheriff may be, her lithe frame makes this job a little easier; any injuries clear without an ounce of fat to disguise them. The brunette tries to recall ever witnessing Emma doing any form of exercise other than running her mouth, but can only conjure up memories of the woman happily filling her face with junk food. She hazards a guess that attitudes can be deceiving; pegging the blonde as an early morning runner, lest anyone take her for anything _other_ than a delinquent grouch.

"A _peculiar_ pain in the backside at that."

She smirks, until her head snaps up as she hears a commotion from outside in the hall, before the heavy wooden door bursts open and Snow enters the room like a whirlwind.

"Emma!"

The schoolteacher falls onto her knees heavily- her bound hands making a smooth landing difficult- and peers down at the blonde with saucer-like eyes. Extending her hands, she moves to shake her daughter, only to have them slapped angrily away.

"Don't touch her, you could end up making it _worse_!"

The brunette snaps, and Snow glares at her, but does as she's told; sufficing for now to stroke a stray curl of hair again and again through her fingers.

"What- what happened... Your mother, where is she? What if she-"

"-Dead."

"Wh-what?"

Irritatingly familiar green eyes blink up at her uncertainly as the once disgraced princess gasps in open-mouthed confusion. Regina merely nods and goes back to running her fingers methodically down the blonde's arm; wrinkling her nose a little as her hand slips across slick blood at her elbow.

"Dead?!... Did _Emma-_ "

"-No, but my mother was close to dishing her out a similar fate."

"You... You _saved_ her? _Emma_? You killed _Cora_ to save her?"

Regina senses the battle playing out through the younger woman's words; a hopeless stalemate between suspicion and disbelief. She shoves the resultant twinge of hurt away roughly and merely sniffs as though disinterested by such questions.

"I did it for a number of reasons..."

She states woodenly, before going back to ignoring the woman sat beside her as she continues slowly and methodically prodding at the blonde. She feels slightly self-conscious with the Sheriff's doting mother watching her every move, and tries to tune out the low-pitched, anxious keening in her left ear; sure that Snow isn't aware she's even making the noise. She grimaces slightly as she runs the flat of her hand over the taut muscle of the blonde's midsection; her fingers scaling the delicate cage of her ribs and finding them uneven and most likely broken.

"Damn."

She plucks black cotton from Emma's stomach and shucks it up over her bra to reveal angry thunder bruising her left side like midnight. Snow lets out an anguished cry and the brunette shuts her eyes; wishing the damn woman would shut the hell up and let her concentrate.

"Oh my god!"

"Shush, it's just a couple of broken ribs.

She snaps at the schoolteacher with a false sense of surety. Snow, however, continues to stare at the pale expanse of abused flesh with eyes so wide the entire iris is surrounded whitely.

"A couple of broken... She looks like she's been hit by a truck!"

"She said much the same thing."

"You _spoke_ to her? She was _conscious_ like this?! Oh god... What... What are you doing? Why aren't you healing her? Don't you have _magic_ here?!"

Regina grits her teeth irritably and turns to Snow.

"It doesn't _work_ that way! I can't just wave a magic wand or kiss it all better! I can't _fix_ her unless I know what's _broken_... I have to be able to target the injuries; to see them in my mind so that I can command the bones and tissue to do what they need to. It this kind of injury is _difficult_ for me!... I have healed many a wound or ailment, but this is for the most part internal. I'm working off feel alone... Also... I'm afraid to attempt some of her injuries when she can't talk to me... When she can't tell me if something feels wrong."

Snow recoils from the angered bark of the Queen. There is a fear in the older woman's voice that disquiets her mind as the emotion sits foreign in that otherwise sultry drawl.

"It's bad, though... Isn't it?"

She asks quietly, and Regina studies her irritably out of the corner of her eye, but Snow's attention is back on the blonde; her lashes thick with tears threatening to fall. The brunette sighs, finishing her examination of Emma's front once concluding that- whilst badly grazed at the knee- her legs don't seem to have sustained any damage to the bone. She motions that Snow should help her roll the blonde onto her side; nodding for her to remain holding up a skinny shoulder as she runs her hand beneath the space created beneath. She is apprehensive of what she might find, as it is with the back of her body that Emma had collided with the stonewall. Fingers feeling their way down a well-defined spine, she murmurs her greatest worry in a low tone; dark eyes finding Snow's and conveying within them the seriousness of the matter.

"There was blood coming from her ear... Not a lot of it, and when she spoke she seemed coherent enough... Most probably it is the result of a cracked skull, but I can't be certain... I can fix her ribs- her pelvis appears fractured at the back here as well-... I can mend the bone, and the lacerations to her knees and elbows will require cleaning and dressing in the regular way... But I will _not_ use magic on her skull- however badly I'm sure Miss Swan would _benefit_ from a full lobotomy- without her being awake."

"But, won't she be in _pain_?"

"I'm counting on it. Pain is a brilliant constant; should she suddenly feel more of it or less of it, I need her to be able to tell me so right away."

With that she motions for Snow to lower the blonde down onto her back and calls abruptly for aid; two faceless guards appearing instantly as if from nowhere. She instructs them to take Emma to one of the upstairs bed chambers; demanding they take every care possible and for them then to return and instruct her on where the blonde is to be found along with where in the hell the water and dressings have gotten to. They bow low, gingerly lifting the Sheriff between them as Snow gets up to follow. Regina extends a hand to hold her at bay, ignoring the angry flash that befalls her from nervous green eyes.

"Your talents reside in words, not in magic, Snow. We need to find out exactly what my mother has been up to here, and be sure that we can trust those around us."

Snow glares at her pointedly at this, and the Queen sighs impatiently, waving her hand as if in dismissal.

"For now, we are on the same side. Do what you do best and find out where our allies lie."

"No... I _won't_ leave her alone, not again-"

"-She isn't _going_ to be alone!"

"And I'm supposed to feel better in the knowledge that she's with _you_!?"

"... So long as Henry lives, I will not allow any harm to come to her."

"Oh _really_!? Well that's worked out just _fine_ so far! She's _unconscious_!"

"And my mother is _dead_!"

They stand dangerously close; breathing erratic as rage crackles between them electrically. Finally, Snow backs down and takes a physical step backwards. Bringing herself under control, she manages a curt nod of acceptance; pulling her cardigan tighter to her soft form, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Just make sure she's ok..."

"On that, I can give you my word."

* * *

With darkness settling in over the castle, the Queen lights the impressive chandelier that watches over the small, surprisingly cosy room with a flick of her wrist; old habits returning as if only practiced yesterday. She draws heavy velvet curtains so that just an inch of ink-black sky breaks through; a pale sliver of moon hanging low over distant trees. Casting a final glance at its serene reflection in the dark water that surrounds the castle, she turns back to the understated bed that centres the room and watches the slow rise and fall of the Saviour's chest.

The room is small compared to the others she has passed in the castle, and she wonders curiously if her guards have chosen it as the place to lie the blonde down due to its clear servant's status. She guesses this to be probable, but doesn't give the thought any grievance. The lack of royal presence in the room and the certainty that it has played host to neither Snow nor her Charming is favorable to the Queen, and she sets herself to work unravelling the heavy cloth that holds the various ointments and instruments left for her. Once laid neatly out on the garnet-red throw, she picks up a small pair of scissors- fashioned to cut gauze and bandages- and opens and closes them as if rehearsing.

The silver blades catch the light sharply and she deems them suitable, proceeding to snip a perfectly straight line through the dirty fabric of the blonde's top; from the hem that falls just over the waistband of her jeans, up to the low-scooped neck. She peels the dirty fabric apart, exposing a surprisingly feminine bra- mostly black, but delicate and adorned with a fine repeat print of golden butterflies- and the mottled bruising that mars the soft skin of the blonde's torso. Deciding to work with a relatively blank canvas, she moves down to the stiff denim of Emma's jeans and snips away at the fabric until it falls, ruined, away from her slender form, leaving her in just her underwear; the damage inflicted on her lithe frame exposed for scrutiny and distaste.

"Miss Swan?"

Regina looms in close to the blonde, her voice sharp and jarringly loud in the otherwise silent room, but sooty eyelashes don't even flicker. Unconvinced, the brunette readies manicured fingers and flicks the tip of the younger woman's nose.

Still nothing.

Rubbing her hands together and feeling a little like a child performing a piece of music or dance in front of an audience for which they haven't done the necessary practice, Regina places her palms gently on the pale skin of the blonde's battered ribs and squeezes her eyes shut as she conjures up a mental image of the fragile bones beneath her fingers.

She works painstakingly slowly; picturing each smooth curve and knitting together the fractured bone shards accordingly. The flesh beneath her palms twitches and moves nauseatingly as she works, but she tries to pay the disconcerting feeling no mind; concentrating only on getting the job done.

Once she reaches the bottom of the younger woman's ribcage- her fingers descending gently into the dip created at its finish- she opens her eyes and marvels at her work. The blonde's bruised skin remains painful to look at, but the pleasant ripple of bone beneath flesh is soft and even, as it should be.

With growing confidence she lets her fingers travel down over the muscular planes of the blonde's stomach and rests her hands on the peaks created by her hipbones; the gentle slope they create pulling the material of her underwear taught, resulting in a line of shadow falling where fabric hovers a little over flesh. She imagines the shape those sharp crests make as they curve around the back of the Sheriff's body and lets her mind work once more to restore the symmetry once found there.

Structural work done, the Queen leans down over Emma again and tries using her voice to rouse her. She is rewarded no verbal response, but notices a small tick beneath delicately veined lids as the blonde seems to respond to her name filtering through whatever darkness lies beneath those thick lashes. The movement, however faint, is a positive sign, and Regina absentlymindedly goes about removing a limp curl from the Sheriff's forehead, proceeding to busy herself blotting tufted cotton with clear, strong-smelling alcohol in preparation to attack the broken skin at ravaged limbs.

It is as she swipes firmly at the lacerations marring the blonde's elbow that the latter gives a low groan, causing the brunette to jump and press down on a particularly nasty cut forcefully.

"F-uck"

Regina composes herself quickly, and reminds the younger woman not to move; advice that goes ignored as Emma feels like her ribs and hips are on fire. She moves to claw at the affected areas fitfully, paying the bleeding gashes littering her elbow and knees no mind. The Queen grabs her forearms swiftly and bares down over slowly blinking eyes and repeats her warning firmly.

"Don't move!"

"It _hurts_!"

There is no argument present in the blonde's husky complaint, merely audible fear at the pain emanating from abused bones, and the Queen runs a cool hand over a feverishly warm cheek in an uncharacteristically soothing manner.

"Re-knitting bone together will do that."

"Re... what?"

"Shh... Don't ask so many questions, try to calm down... You sustained fractures to your ribs and hips. I've mended them as best I can, and over time they will fully heal, but the pain is to be expected; I can't eradicate the trauma to the surrounding tissue."

" _Mended_ them?... Like.. With magic?"

"Yes, Miss Swan, with magic."

"... _Holy_ _shit..._ "

Full lips form a dry smile, and the Mayor goes back to work on Emma's elbow; holding the younger woman's arm tightly in her free hand to combat the jerks and spasms in retaliation to the stinging of the alcohol.

"Holy shit is right.

She agrees. Groaning, Emma blinks repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the red-tinged blur that clouds her vision, but the motion sends shockwaves of pain into her skull. She has suffered a good many hang-overs in her life, and has been knocked out twice before now, but the agony of the headache currently threatening to turn her brain to mush is like nothing she has ever experienced.

"My head's _killing_ me..."

Regina regards her seriously, not missing the hitch in the blonde's breath or the weakness in her voice, and she nods knowingly.

"That's what I was afraid of... And now that you're up, I'm afraid things might be about to get worse before they get better."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please let me know what you think. This chapter is hugely dialogue driven which isn't my forte, not to mention the dialogue is kinder than that shared between these two at this sort of point in the show due to the current situation, so I hope I haven't butchered this up too badly! Either way, thanks for reading!

"Ow! _fuck!_ You're doing that on purpose!"

Regina rolls her eyes; her forehead beaded with sweat as she leans over the thrashing blonde, her fingers buried deep within thick curls.

"I haven't even _started_ yet, you idiotic woman, but keep squirming and I might get ideas! Honestly, Miss Swan, quit acting like such a baby!"

She keeps her tone purposefully disdainful and- predictably- it garners her the result she wants. Emma clenches her teeth and grips clammily at the throw beneath her; glaring up at the woman hovering above her like a bad omen, but at least she stills.

"I'm not sure you're _allowed_ an opinion until _you_ get thrown against a wall..."

"Oh shush, as far as I can tell it's just a fracture."

"Oh good, _just_ a skull-fracture, I was worried it was going to be something serious!"

The blonde grumbles irritably, but there is something amiable in the way the Sheriff quips up at the Queen, and in a peculiar way, the familiarity of their snide remarks towards one another is almost comforting. Spotting the maroon track trailing pale skin from ear to jaw, Regina softens slightly. She may have little time for troublesome young woman, but she knows pain when she sees it; having been dealt her fair share of it. She reallocates her attention to the hard bone beneath her fingers, carrying on in a gentler tone

"It could have been worse... I watched you hit the wall, and I wasn't sure if you were... She used a great deal of force..."

"Where is she now?"

"...Taken care of."

Mercifully, her vague comment is met with silence and the brunette apprehensively allows a small wave of power to emanate from her fingertips which gently cradle the younger woman's head. Emma lets out a pained hiss but remains rigidly still, closing her eyes as she feels them threatening to water. Her face is chalky, with perspiration giving her features a sickly sheen. Regina watches her like a hawk as she works, taking in every twitch and sharp intake of breath; ready to pull away instantly if needed.

Although the silence helps her concentrate, she becomes progressively concerned that Emma's stubborn streak is keeping her from letting on any important increase of pain. She is sure that _should_ the blonde suddenly simply lose feeling or become aware of any unexpected sensations, she'd _happily_ sark and complain for as long as the she herself was able to resist smothering her with one of the plump, over-stuffed pillows, but _pain_?... She suspects the Sheriff's pride could be damaging in itself, particularly after her own disdainful goading. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she searches in vain for a topic of conversation; wanting to keep the younger woman vocal as an audible gage of her condition.

"Snow mentioned you told my mother about Henry?"

"Just his name... And our situation."

"I'm intrigued to know how _that_ was described."

"I told her it was complicated."

"Now _there's_ an understatement."

"Well... It sums things up in a word. I didn't exactly get around to having a sit down meal with her to discuss the ins and outs of things... We didn't get along too well, as you may have noticed."

"I _did_ pick up on that, yes... Still... _Complicated_? That kind of throws a dampener over the impact of the whole indulging my son in the belief that I'm pure evil situation, and the fact that you have been fighting me tooth and nail for god knows how long."

"As I said, it was just mere pleasantries."

"Hmmm..."

"And I don't, just so you know... I probably indulged Henry more than I should have with his book- though, I guess now everything's come to light, I shouldn't beat myself up about _that_ too much, but rather for doubting him, but it was _crazy!_ You know?- but... I have never thought of you as... Well... _Evil._ "

"Is that so?"

Regina keeps her tone light; speaking as though whatever answer the blonde may give bares little interest. She is grateful the younger woman still has her eyes clamped shut however, as she is sure her cheeks are tinged pink, and that the painful curiosity she is able to keep out of her voice is prominently evident on her face. Emma merely frowns, as though she finds the question to be odd.

_No, not odd. Obsolete._

"Of course not! Don't get me wrong; I still think you're a bitch... At least you were to me, and that filtered down to Henry more than it should have... But, you care for Henry; all you _ever_ did was take care of him, however weirdly you'd go about doing it... And I did _tell_ him that... Look, what it comes down to is; you don't like me- and you're probably not alone- but that hardly makes you 'evil'... _Regardless_ of what the book says."

"...I see."

The Queen stares down at the Sheriff warily. Emma's words surprise her; they have been battling each other for so long now, that she'd almost forgotten there even _being_ a bigger picture. A world beyond just the two of them.

"Of course, I revisited my opinion _slightly_ after you attempted to _poison_ me... That _was_ pretty evil..."

Incredulously, there is a small hint of amusement in the Sheriff's pain-strained voice and Regina lets out a dry chuckle in surprise.

"But, you didn't mean for Henry to eat that apple pastry or whatever it was-"

"-Turnover-"

"-Whatever... You know, your mother said something interesting when we were down in that pit."

"I'll bet she said _many_ interesting things..."

"Maybe, I sort of tuned her out when it started to stink of bullshit."

"Of course you did, dear."

"She said that we needn't fear her... Once we found out who she was, I mean... She said that the apple fell very far from the tree."

"Well, as you said yourself, she was full of it..."

"No, that part was true."

"Sorry?"

"You two are nothing alike."

"Oh?... And how do you figure that, Miss Swan?"

"Were you not listening to what I _just_ said? You're not evil... Well... Not like _that!_ "

The brunette feels an unexpected prickle behind her eyes and blinks it away furiously. She sniffs quietly and continues her intricate work; studying the Sheriff as though she were a particularly curious specimen. She supposes this description is fairly apt.

"I think, Miss Swan, that you may be talking about something about which you know nothing..."

"Maybe... But I'm pretty good at reading people."

" _Really_ , dear? Pardon me for saying so, but you have perhaps the _worst_ judgement of character of anyone I have ever met!"

"Well, then I'm due getting this one right!"

Regina grins despite herself, and she is grateful that the blonde still has her eyes firmly clamped shut. She hates to admit it- even to herself- but this is probably the most at ease she's felt since the curse has broken. She has missed the younger woman's dry sarcasm; the way it makes her want to gouge her eyes out with her thumbs, yet excites her in a way only magic has been able to before.

They are well matched in character- however negatively- this she is willing to admit.

" _Ah_! Fuck!"

"Not much longer, now..."

She speaks the truth; she can feel most of her work has been done, but she inwardly lectures herself not to get hasty now the end is in sight. She proceeds methodically, trying to ignore the soft moans the blonde keeps trapped behind her lips. Still, as the minutes drag by, she becomes slowly more sure of herself.

"How's Henry?"

The Sheriff chokes the question out; her voice suddenly strained, and the Queen notices a rapid increase in her breathing. She dims the force being sent into the blonde to a bare minimum; concerned at the abrupt change in Emma's demeanour.

"Miss Swan, are you-"

"I'm f-fine... _Please_ , just tell me about Henry..."

Regina hesitates uncertainly, before continuing her work at her original pace; injecting her voice with false confidence.

"He's fine... Well, no, not _fine_ ; he misses you and your mother a great deal... Your father's looking after him for now."

"...Oh, _god_!"

" _What?_ What is it?!"

The brunette quells her power instantly at the Sheriff's moan; studying her raptly for any signs of deterioration. Her harsh tone rouses the blonde into opening her eyes, and Emma winces up at the darker woman in a way that could almost be considered apologetic.

"Nothing! Nothing, I'm fine.. Well... Hardly. But, I can deal with the pain... It's just... Let's just call them Mary Margaret and David, ok?"

Regina smirks as she finishes up, carefully withdrawing her hands from tangled hair and bending and flexing her cramping fingers as she remains perched on the side of the bed, looking down at the blonde.

"Ah, I see... Not quite ready to accept _that_ small bombshell?"

"That's putting it lightly..."

"And here I thought you'd be thrilled to be reunited with your parents..."

"I wish people would stop saying that... I'm happy I can stop wondering, but that's about as far as my joy goes just now... It's just like, suddenly we're supposed to be this big happy family, and never _mind_ the fact I spent twenty-eight years thinking no one gave a shit."

"You're angry..."

"No- I _was_... But seeing this place; what you took away from them... I'm not angry, not anymore... But I _am_ human. Things aren't suddenly all 'ok'. They don't seem to _get_ that."

"They finally have their happy ending."

"I know... And that's great. That's great for Snow White and Prince Charming... But in the world _I_ grew up in, a happy ending is something men pay extra for at a massage parlour."

Regina snorts lightly at this and gently tucks an escaped tuft of bandage neatly back into place at Emma's knee. Lying with her eyes frowned shut, bare-faced and stretched out in her underwear, the blonde looks younger somehow. Her tone is moody, and despite her words, she is momentarily every bit the sullen child angry at their parents.

"What a charming visual!"

"It's just a lot to take in... Princes and princesses and all that... I kind of envisaged that if I ever found my parents- and they wanted to _see_ me- we would spend an awkward dinner in complicated silence in some relatively nice, but not too pricey steakhouse or something."

"Well, now, _that's_ an incredibly moving scenario..."

"I just mean, I knew it would be _awkward_... Given that they didn't want me in the first place... And now... I _should_ be happy, because it turns out they _did_ want me... And... When Henry told me who they were, I didn't believe him, I mean, how _could_ I!? But things were all so crazy, and a part of me couldn't help but allow myself to at least _wonder_... And I'd get so angry!"

"For believing?"

"For the most part yes; how was I supposed to be a good moth-... Role-model for Henry, if I couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and reality any better than he could."

The Mayor raises a brow as the blonde strives to correct her wording. Whether it is simply an instinctual remainder of Emma's fear to commit, or a response to her own display of kindness, she is unsure. Either way, it results in a warmth within her that causes her to regard the younger woman with a patience previously absent from their interactions.

"I guess I was angry at myself for getting my hopes up, too..."

Emma closes her eyes as she continues. Her entire body aches and her mind feels like a rotten tooth in the cavern of her skull, and she is tempted to simply rip it out. Despite her discomfort however, there is something healing in talking to Regina. They have been at odds with each other a long time, but through this have formed a peculiar understanding of one another. She doesn't go on to tell the older woman the source of her mind's worries and disturbances in the belief that she will be shown compassion, but more because- however strange it may be- she knows she will simply be _understood_.

"Mary Margaret was good to me. Much kinder than I probably deserved, but then that's just her nature... Still, you know _my_ nature, and I don't really make friends all that easily, as I'm sure you would _happily_ contend with... I've never had anyone _be_ there for me like she was, and then when Henry would go on about why we had this, I don't know... Connection... I guess a part of me just wanted to pretend it wasn't _completely_ crazy..."

"Well, these things take time..."

"To get your head around the fact your mom's Snow White? As in; sings to birds and lives with seven personality-defined midgets? _Yeah_!"

"Well... As you're aware, her situation isn't exactly the way Disney portrayed it."

"No... And a part of me- the sane part- still just thinks of her as Mary Margaret... But _David-"_

"-Ah, the valiant Prince! Something tells me that one's a little harder to swallow?"

"Oh, no, I can _believe_ it... Snow White is pretty much the breaking point- I've accepted _that,_ so I'm not really going to be all that surprised by anything else- it's just... At least with Mary Margaret I had an actual _relationship_ before all this... with David, he's just this _guy!_ And not even a guy I particularly _liked_ ; he's an adulterer that repeatedly hurt my closest friend, and didn't seem for the life of him to understand boundaries as far as _that_ was concerned... Then suddenly I'm being pulled into some loving embrace, and I'm just supposed to smile up at him and call him dad?"

Emma lets out an exhausted sigh and descends into silence. The brunette mulls over her words thoughtfully; the Sheriff's take on events never having crossed her mind. The air between them is suddenly awkward as both become aware that they were moments ago having- what could be called- a civil conversation. Regina sniffs primly, and packs away the various instruments with which she has patched up the blonde's lacerations and grazes, and places them on the small stool at the side of the bed. Looking back at the Sheriff, she tries to quell the emotions that threaten to surface as her eyes travel the crude bruising flowering from beneath various bandages.

"How's the pain?"

"Okay..."

The edge to the younger woman's voice says otherwise, but Regina simply nods and runs her hands distractedly though her hair. She realises irritably that the blonde lies on top of the throws and bedding; the fact brought to her attention as she pulls her jacket tighter to her slender frame against the night's chill air.

"We should get you under these blankets."

"Are you trying to get me into bed, Madame Mayor?"

Regina rolls her eyes and pulls at the blonde's hands; trying to guide her at least partially off the bed so as to free the covers below her. The Sheriff's sharp yelp as pain shoots through her hips and ribs causes the brunette to let go and wait anxiously while the younger woman tries to catch her breath; arms cradling her abdomen protectively. Once Emma appears to unclench, the Mayor tentatively offers her an arm in support to try again, but after a few minute movements, the sheen of perspiration visible at the blonde's brow and the alarmingly chalky pallor to her skin have the brunette telling her firmly to lie still.

"Wait here, I'll see if I can find a blanket in another room."

"I'm hardly likely to _go_ anywhere, am I?"

The Sheriff's retort comes through clenched teeth, and despite her reassuringly characteristic sarcasm, the Queen concludes Emma looks as though she may be either about to vomit or pass out. Without thinking about it, she runs her hand gently down a bruised arm and squeezes the blonde's hand reassuringly, before hastily removing her fingers as though only suddenly aware of who it is she's touching.

"Why don't you try resting your _mouth_ as well as your body, dear?"

She is met with little response; Emma seemingly preoccupied with trying to block out the gnawing pain to her abused limbs. Shrugging, Regina slips from the room; only now aware of the fact she has misplaced her heels somewhere during the afternoon's chaos, as the cold chill of the marble floor bites mercilessly at her nylon covered soles.

* * *

She tries the doors along the hallway hesitantly; blood coursing with adrenaline and prepared for combat if needed. She comes across no one however, and the first two doors she tries are locked. The third leads to a small washroom; this, too, evidently meant for servant use. She finds a collection of small cups on a shelf by the sink. She suspects they are in actual fact meant to house candles if their shape is anything to go by, but she reaches out for two and fills them with water from the rusty tap before continuing her search.

At the end of the long corridor, she finds a room left unlocked and quickly strips the bed- slightly smaller than the one in the room in which she has left Emma- of its throw and bottom blanket. Bundling the slightly coarse material under her arm, she pads lightly back to Emma's room with the cups of water balanced in her hands.

* * *

Upon opening the door, she almost drops the makeshift glasses due to the shock of taking in the full picture before her. The blonde's complexion is alarmingly pale; bringing harsh attention to her injuries. Composing herself, Regina treads a little closer; holding her breath apprehensively, while trying to convince herself that she is not, in fact, waiting for the rise and fall of the Sheriff's chest. Finally, upon witnessing movement, she relaxes; mentally scolding herself and placing the cups on the stool next to the packed up bandages.

"Emma?"

The blonde's name feels foreign on her tongue, especially when uttered without a generous helping of disdain. The Sheriff's eyelashes flicker in acknowledgement, but she remains otherwise withdrawn. Regina gently pulls the thick blanket over her pale form, before spreading the quilted throw on top. She perches awkwardly back on the bed.

"I brought water if you want any?"

Emma begins to shake her head, but hisses miserably at the sharp pain this action results in.

"N...o."

The Mayor resists the urge to insist that the blonde really _should_ have something to drink, and instead just takes a compensatory sip from her own cup. She stares thoughtfully at the thin crack of moonlight spilling from between the curtains, her lids becoming heavy; physically and emotionally drained.

She is brought back to the present as Emma mumbles her name, green eyes now open to regard her with what almost looks like embarrassment.

"Can you... Can you do something?... For the pain? Please?"

Regina's initial reaction to the weakness in the Sheriff's voice is to demand that she shut the hell up; the bright moisture in the blonde's eyes and her sickly pallor disquietingly uncharacteristic. She pushes this thought away forcefully; sure that the younger woman no more wishes to ask for help than she wishes to hear her doing so. Sighing, she looks down at her ward with a touch of kindness and shakes her head apologetically.

"I can't, sorry... I can only fix what's broken, but my power won't take away any trauma caused by the injuries, nor the pain from the bruising caused by knitting the bone back together... I'll have a look when it's light to see what there is growing on the castle grounds. There may be something with a pain-killing effect or numbing agent. Is it... Is it really bad?"

"...Yeah."

Emma admits quietly, and the Queen sighs, before- despite her better judgement- she adjusts herself so that she rests fully on the bed; tentatively pulling the covers over her legs as she sits with her back against the solid headboard. She runs her fingers gently through tangled tresses, directing her gaze purposefully ahead of her.

Finally, once the muscles in her back begin to protest being propped up against the unforgivingly hard surface of the headboard, she looks down to study Emma. The blonde's eyes are shut, but more peacefully this time, and her breathing is slow and regular. Removing her hand from cornsilk tangles, the Mayor readjusts herself- careful not to disturb the younger woman with her movements- until she lies rigidly on her back beside the Sheriff.

She imagines sleep will be a long time in coming given her current situation, but even as she ponders this, her lashes drift heavily closed, and her breathing slows to match the peaceful rise and fall of the blonde's chest.


	4. Chapter 4

As the pink light of dawn filters softly through the crack in the curtains, Regina frowns in drowsy confusion as she struggles to recall her surroundings. Stretching out her sleep-stiff limbs, her fingers brush against warm flesh beneath the blanket and she lets out a sharp intake of breath. Glancing cautiously to the side, she is accosted with a mass of golden curls, and she raises herself slowly up onto her elbow to study the Sheriff warily.

Emma's face and shoulders are all that are currently visible, but the bruising and scrapes to this meagre expanse of flesh alone is enough to solidify the current situation within the brunette's head. She imagines such marks will litter pale skin for a good while yet, but takes solace in the fact that a hint of color appears to have returned to the blonde's cheeks.

She edges slowly from beneath the sheets; not wishing to disturb her curious bedmate as she moves. Padding lightly to the door, she throws a final glance behind her and deems the Sheriff to be very much out for the count. Sighing, she takes her leave and closes the door softly behind her.

* * *

As the brunette makes her way swiftly down the stone-floored corridor she struggles to banish the hellish concoction of emotions churning restlessly within her stomach. She has no clue what her next move should be, and is at a complete loss of how to process her current situation. She is dully aware that now should be the time for mourning, but the restless urge to form some sort of plan- hell, to form any sensical line of thought at _all-_ battles with this bleak need maddeningly.

Coming to a halt outside the small bathroom so recently discovered, she glances around swiftly for any signs of life, before entering the damp-ravaged room and locking the door behind her. She inspects her face in the mirror with something akin to disbelief. Her ordinarily silky hair hangs lifelessly around her face, and her dark eyes are webbed with thin, red blossoms of blood. The skin beneath her eyes is dark and carries an oily sheen and her lips form a hard, unpainted, line.

"Good grief."

Hastily turning on copper-tinged water from the rust speckled taps, she splashes copious handfuls of it into her face, stopping only once to take the water from her cupped palms to her mouth and swilling it around her teeth and tongue in an attempt to rid herself of the dryness brought on by sleep. Spitting it out and turning off the tap, she empties her bladder before swiftly shucking her bed-creased clothes and stepping lightly into the shower.

A bar of yellowed soap sits cracked and forgotten to the side of the taps and she picks it up with a wrinkle of her nose, proceeding to rub it vigorously in her hands so as to remove any possible remnants of its previous users. Once she is positive the soap's surface is virginal but for her own skin, she lathers herself with a thin coating of chrysanthemum scented bubbles; using the soap to wash her hair as well as her body due to the lack of shampoo and conditioner.

Drying herself off with a coarse towel taken from the narrow cupboard adjacent to the sink, Regina comes to the belated realization that she possesses no items of clothing here save for those worn upon her arrival. With a bemused sigh, she wraps the towel tightly around her slim frame and cracks open the door to survey the hallway.

Empty.

Bundling her discarded garments distractedly in her hand, she makes her way quickly back to the small bedroom in which she left the blonde; letting herself in swiftly but taking care to close the door with silent caution. She is relieved to find Emma still sound asleep; not having been overly enthused at the thought of the blonde finding out about her current predicament.

It is blind hope alone that causes the Queen to tiptoe her way over to the room's closet and pull open its gnarled wooden doors, but she is rewarded with a number of dull colored garments, hung neatly upon simple metal hangers. The odds are evidently in her favor as she recognizes the majority of the fabric to belong to heavy woolen skirts, letting her know that the room's previous occupant was thankfully also female.

She opts for a long black skirt; deeming the dark grays and khakis to be reminiscent of a lower chaste. After all, she is the Queen now. Finding a plain black corset and lacing it with practiced ease over a long-sleeved shirt, she brushes herself down and pulls her fingers through her damp hair. She is acutely aware of the fact that she wears no underwear beneath her skirt, but decides that the day she wears another woman's underwear will be the day they lower her into the ground. Finding a pair of sensible black tights, she pulls them on to cover her bare flesh in an attempt to make herself feel a little less exposed.

She steals another glance at the Sheriff; able to see just the sleep-serene profile of the younger woman's face from her current position, and she wonders briefly if she should wake the blonde. She recalls a number of scenes from a variety of shows in which doctors crowd their injured with prodding fingers and bright lights to check their responses and pupil dilation. Deciding she wouldn't have the faintest clue what signs to look out for, she simply rests her hand against the Sheriff's brow momentarily and deduces the skin there to be adequately cool.

_Well, it's not like what she's suffering from is a damned fever!_

True, but this is at least something she knows how to deal with. Shrugging her shoulders, she moves back to the room's threshold, her gait slightly awkward in her borrowed clothes; the drab, servant's material irritating against her skin and hanging oddly on her slender frame.

She begrudges thoughts of Snow having access to her much grander Royal wardrobe.

* * *

Regina rounds yet another corner as she stalks towards the Palace kitchens, and is just beginning to make her way down the large, statue-studded hallway when she is thrown painfully against the stonework that lines the walls.

" _Ah_!"

"What the hell have you _done_ with her, you bitch?!"

The brunette blinks in confusion as her back grumbles in response to her collision with the cruelly rough surface, before shoving the woman bearing down on her angrily aside. Hands finding her hips as a snarl escapes her lips, she hisses at the raven-headed pain in the behind irritably.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Snow glares at her, and the Queen is bemused to find that the school-teacher's pale hand is curled tightly around the hilt of a sword strung around her waist in an emerald scabbard. Holding up her hands placatingly and adopting an air of disdain, Regina sneers as comprehension over what the woman might want dawns on her. Snow growls as she takes in the defiant curve to the brunette's lips.

" _Emma_! Where is she? Why did I even _think_ I could trust you?! I've been looking for you all damned _nigh_ t, Regina, so you tell me what you've done with her right now, or I swear, I will have your head hitting the floor quicker than you can take another breath!"

"Well, it appears you've been relieved of your restraints somewhere along the way, Snow, _that's_ a relief. As for Emma, I imagine she's right where I _left_ her. In bed. Asleep."

"How could you- wait... What?"

" _Asleep_ , dear, as she very well should be given the circumstances. Her bones have healed and her condition is stable, but I should say she will find herself in a rather sorry way for the next couple of days... Magic can do much, but it comes with a price. You know that."

Snow opens her mouth to argue, but no words come out. A small indent of confusion alights her brow as her eyes search the older woman's face warily.

"...You healed her?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"You did, but-"

"-But, with Miss Swan in her current state it would have been all too _easy_ to finish off what my mother started and blame such a 'tragedy' on her ill health?"

"... Something like that."

Snow's cheeks pinken, and she casts her eyes down awkwardly to avoid Regina's steady gaze; hating the cool knowledge in those dark coals.

"Well, rest assured, one death seemed like quite enough for the time being. You'll find her in one of the bedrooms within the servant's quarters; four doors down from the _despicably_ dingy bathroom. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am on a search for something to eat."


	5. Chapter 5

The warm glow bleeding through the delicate skin of the blonde's eyelids brightens suddenly, causing the Sheriff to frown as she is pulled rudely from her slumber. She lets out a sharp hiss, as with this hateful light comes a brutal agony, seemingly attacking every possible bone in her body. She cracks an eye open blearily and struggles to focus on the hazy figure silhouetted in the sun-filled window.

"Emma?"

The curiously fuzzy shape creeps closer, and she recognizes her intruder to be Mary Margaret. The school teacher bends over her with wide eyes, nibbling at her bottom lip anxiously. Emma stares up at her, disorientated, before squeezing her eyes shut once more and letting out a low groan.

"You have got to be shitting me..."

"What, what's wrong? Emma?!"

The blonde forces her eyes to open fully- completely awake now- and glances up at her housemate warily.

"It's cool, it's just... you look like Walt Disney threw up on you."

Snow glances down at the supple cream leather and soft skirts of her attire and offers the Sheriff a knowing smile. She wears soft, pig-skin chaps, covered by a rich, silken dress that is cut short in the front for combat or riding, and around her waist hangs an emerald scabbard in which she has sheathed a sword procured from one of the land's patrons with whom she had spoken the previous night. She fingers at the coarse fur that adorns her neckline as Emma regards her with visible dubiety.

"This is how I dressed when I was growing up... How _you_ would have been dressed. While here, it seems fitting to adopt our land's styles and ways... I realize it's probably a lot to take in-"

"-You think!?"

"-But, while we're here, we need help. Dressing in a way that is considered customary and familiar seems wise, not to mention how great it feels to be rid of that awful _cardigan_!... Anyway, how are you feeling?"

Snow perches companionably on the bed, running her hand affectionately along the side of the Sheriff's face. She reaches for the glass of water, still standing where Regina had set it down the night before, and offers it to the blonde who struggles to push herself up so that she rests with her back against the headboard. The action is accompanied by a series of hissed expletives and she begins to believe she may well pass out before her mission is accomplished. Closing her eyes and waiting for the room to come back into single focus, she finally looks back up into the face of her- understandably concerned- housemate and reaches for the proffered glass; attempting this first with her left hand, but then, after a hideous bolt of pain shoots up her side, opting to work with the right instead.

"I'm ok."

"Yes, you _really_ look it..."

Snow takes the glass quickly away when Emma shows signs of attempting to lean over to do it herself and sighs thoughtfully, before taking the blonde's hand in her own and rubbing at the flesh between thumb and forefinger kindly.

"I was really worried about you, you know?"

"Yeah, same, I wasn't sure where you were or if you were ok... What did they do to your eye?"

The raven-haired woman rubs at the scraped flesh below her eye distractedly, letting out an exasperated bark of laughter.

"You're worrying about what she did to _me_?! Have you _seen_ the state you're in?"

As she says these words, the schoolteacher notes Emma's semi-nakedness curiously; the blanket still wrapped around her revealing dirt streaked shoulders bare but for thin, black bra straps. She notes the neat, white bandaging to the blonde's elbow.

"You must have had the shock of your life having Regina heal you with magic... Did it hurt badly?"

"Oh, I think I _may_ have had greater shocks than that!... It hurt like a bitch, but my eyes aren't swimming with any weird redness anymore, and I think I can move everything ok... She did a good job."

Snow cringes as she recalls her earlier assault on the darker woman before inwardly telling herself that her reaction was perfectly justified given their history. She smiles kindly at the blonde, gently picking a small strand of lint left by the blanket from the taped corner of the dressing at her elbow.

"How's the bruising?"

She pulls the blanket down gently, oblivious to Emma's small noise of annoyance; knowing the pale skin at her housemate's ribs will still appear painful, yet still not quite ready for the dark thunder that crosses her abdomen.

"Jesus..."

Emma peers down at the damage curiously, inwardly admitting she can see the reasoning behind Mary Margaret's reaction. The bruising is a livid purple, tinged yellow and green here and there. She imagines it looks worse than it is, now that the bones are no longer fractured beneath, and tells her companion so.

"Well... Let's hope so... We need to get you some food, too, you're getting skinny."

The blonde rolls her eyes irritably. The action sends a sharp pain to the back of her skull and she ceases her air of disdain immediately, opting to merely sigh as she regards the schoolteacher in bemusement.

"Am not, and, seriously? _That's_ what you're worried about?"

She grumbles, before changing the subject swiftly; she won't deny that she has grown exceptionally fond of the raven-haired woman, but she is about as enthusiastic about engaging in such mother-daughter bickering as she is about visiting the dentist.

"So, what's the plan now that the wardrobe's gone?"

"I don't know yet."

"Did you ask Regina how she got here?"

"No, not yet, but hopefully however she managed it works both ways."

"Well, either way, she might have ideas. We should talk to her."

"...Maybe."

Snow frowns, wondering if she will be rewarded with another moody glower if she points out that the woman in question has hardly proven herself to be trustworthy in the past.

_Yes, ideas like the one she had when she attempted to feed you a poisoned apple turnover, you mean? Or that time she framed your dad and I for murder? Or the time her pathetic need for revenge almost cost your son his life?_

She is curious in the face of Emma's attitude towards the brunette; understanding the darker woman is to thank for the blonde being sat here, alive, today, but unable to match the Sheriff's seemingly casual acceptance of the disgraced Mayor.

"Things should go more smoothly now, anyway..."

Is all she says in the end.

"Pity, I was getting so good at campfires."

The younger woman sighs, and Snow grins before suddenly leaning forwards to press her lips to the Sheriff's forehead. Emma lets out an awkward noise of disquiet, but embraces the schoolteacher gingerly with her good arm. The older woman draws back sheepishly, but offers the blonde a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm glad you're okay, Emma."

"Same here."

Smiling, Snow points to the items previously overlooked by the younger woman which she has lain out neatly on a small stool in the corner.

"Those should fit you, just don't pull the corseting too tight because of your ribs... I'm guessing you should probably be resting, so I'll bring you something to eat in a short while, but if you feel like getting up or getting changed, everything you need is there."

Emma eyes the expensive looking fabric warily; her distaste having been ignited at the mention of corseting. Regarding her housemate soberly, she takes in the anxious hesitance in Mary Margaret's eyes and the doting curve of her lips and decides to refrain from voicing her disinclination to dress up like fucking Rapunzel.

"Thanks, but I think I might try to sleep some more; my head's killing me."

"Okay, I'll come check on you in a while."

"Sure... Thanks."

* * *

Regina pokes her head around the door to the blonde's room hesitantly, surprised to see the younger woman sitting up in bed and awake. Stalking into the room with the sharp click of her thankfully located heels, she peers down at the Sheriff with her hands placed authoritatively on her hips.

"You're up."

"Oh god, you're dressed that way too."

The Queen hides her amusement behind a sniff of disdain as she glances down at her less than desirable outfit.

"Yes, well, I have no clothes of my own here, so I merely made do with what I found in the closet."

She nods her head towards the modest oak wardrobe by the window as Emma raises an eyebrow; the younger woman regarding the brunette with open curiosity.

"Something tells me it's still a damn sight better than what _I'm_ expected to wear..."

The blonde sighs, and Regina glances in the direction of Snow's proffered clothes and smirks. She moves quickly over and holds up the deep navy dress; its cut similar to the one worn by Snow earlier, but with fuller sleeves and a rich plumage of feathers trailing the spine. The brunette begrudgingly muses that she actually finds the silken fabric to be to her taste, but she imagines the blonde might think otherwise.

"Seriously? It looks like a fucking prom-night-stegosaurus!"

The Queen lets out a short bark of laughter before glaring at the Sheriff accusingly.

"Well, it's good to see your injuries haven't impacted your way with words, Miss Swan."

"You can't _honestly_ tell me that people would actually _wear_ something like that?"

"Oh, they do, dear, and I imagine this _particular_ garment belongs to your mother."

Regina smirks as the younger woman cringes at the term, folding the dress up neatly and placing it back on the stool. With a pang of envy, she notes that the raven-haired woman has also left the blonde a demure set of undergarments.

"Well, I can tell you now I'm _not_ going to wear something like that!"

Emma states bluntly, and dark eyes roll despite a small tug to full lips as the Queen confides

"Yes, I'd imagined as much, Miss Swan."


	6. Chapter 6

Regina smirks as she moves over to the bed; looming in close to the blonde as she cups her jaw and studies her intently.

"Uh, Regina? What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes, dear."

"I'm... I'm not sure I really want to..."

The brunette frowns, before rolling her eyes when comprehension dawns on her as to the Sheriff's sudden anxiety.

"Miss Swan, close your eyes; I want to see how your pupils react when you open them. Last night the left one was far too blown."

"Oh."

Emma does as she's told; holding her eyes closed for a little while before blinking against the light, keeping them comically wide in an attempt to aid the darker woman.

"That seems much better. How's the pain?"

"Better."

"Good. I've sent one of the Royal Guard out into the forest to search for grass nettles; they release a pain killing substance when wilted."

"Really?"

The blonde's question seems to be directed more towards the fact the Queen should have done such a thing, rather than at the healing qualities of the local vegetation. Regina shrugs awkwardly, before perching on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

"Yes, _really_. Look, so long as we're here and Henry remains back in Storybrooke, it is in my best interests to keep you in good health. Now, I did my part last night and we could leave it at that, but the simple fact of the matter is, Miss Swan, that you being in pain- tempting as the idea may be- serves me no purpose."

"I'm touched... You know, if we're going to be all _friendly_ now, you may as well drop that whole 'Miss Swan' thing and just call me Emma, you know, like a _normal_ person."

"Sheriff, I have about as much inclination to form a friendship with yourself as I do to stick my head in an oven. I just don't need you moping about up here when you could be making yourself useful. I will call you Miss Swan, as it is the courteous way in which to address you."

"But I call you Regina all the _time_."

"I am aware of this, dear, it is just one of the many, _many_ things about you which irks me."

Emma regards the brunette levelly for a moment before adopting a small grin. She moves to reach out for the water standing close to her side before thinking better of it. The Queen watches this with a flicker of concern, but notes that the level within the glass has diminished since she was last in the room, indicating the younger woman has at least drunken something.

"Does it hurt to drink?"

"No, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

"Well... I don't want to have to go to the bathroom... I'm practically _naked_ , and I don't know if I can even fucking stand up!"

The blonde blushes before glaring at the older woman challengingly, waiting for whatever witticism Regina has rolled up her sleeve.

"You should be able to stand and walk; your bones are healed which is what would have stopped you from doing so, but I imagine it will hurt quite _exquisitely_."

"Oh good, I feel so much better now."

The Mayor laughs, pulling at the blonde's arm and checking the bandage at her elbow.

"Can I wash with these things on?"

"No, you'll need to take them off and redress them, which _tends_ to be a good idea anyway when one has an injury. As for your plans of bathing, this is something I am entirely in favor of, Miss Swan; I'm pretty sure you'll turn the water black with the layer of grime in which you currently fester. It would be a treat to the olfactory senses also."

"Uhuh, well I'm _sorry_ I didn't find the time to have a bubble bath while trekking through the unfriendly realms of this shit hole... Do you know what happened to my clothes? I'll just wash them too."

"I don't think you'll be wearing that cheap little vest and jeans set again, dear."

"Yeah, yeah, we have to blend in or whatever. Well, _that's_ about as likely to happen as me growing a set of wings, so I may as well feel comfortable trying."

"The only way you would sprout _wings_ , Miss Swan, is if you were to become either a fairy, or a dragon. You lack the moral innocence to be the first and the skilled prowess to become the second. No, you won't be wearing those skimpy little jeans again because there's very little _left_ of them."

She leans to the floor and pinches up the tattered fabric between thumb and forefinger; her expression a picture of distaste. Holding it out to the blonde pointedly, she pulls at several stray scraps of material here and there before letting the ruined denim fall back to the floor.

"What did you do that for?!"

"Well, do you recall that time when your ribs and pelvis were in much the same shape as those ridiculous jeans, dear? Think _hard_ now. I had to remove them in order to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, and, given that she _insists_ on wearing clothes that fit her like a second skin, the chances were I would only inflict more damage by trying to wrestle them off."

"Crap."

"Your gratitude is truly touching, dear."

Emma sighs, regarding the brunette in bemusement.

"Look, I'm thankful for what you did for me last night, truly I am, but I would honestly rather walk around the castle naked than wear that fucking dress."

"Well, the Royal Guard and servantry are almost solely male, you should at least get some splendidly cooked breakfasts by doing so. However, as much as I'm sure your mother would be _thrilled_ to have the land's Lost Princess staggering around the castle with her goods on display, I would suggest you rethink such notions."

"You know what I mean! Come on, there has to be _something_ else in that closet?"

Raising an eyebrow, the brunette pushes herself gracefully from the bed and makes her way over to the wardrobe; pulling open the doors to allow the Sheriff to assess its contents from her position on the bed. She pulls out the dowdiest of the offered skirts- the act partially spiteful, but in a way also kind, as the item she selects is of a lighter material; less likely to put strain on the blonde's hips- and holds it out for closer scrutiny.

"God, no."

"Too long?"

"Too... Skirt like..."

"...Sheriff, as much as I'm _sure_ you don't need to be reminded, we are currently surrounded by different company to which you would usually find yourself in; you must wear a skirt or a dress or you will find it hard blending in with this society."

"Well, then society can bite me."

"My dear, I imagine a few, brief moments of enduring your sweet, docile attitude will have them wishing to do just _that_ , so why not skip irking them visually as well as with your ill-mannered tongue?"

"It's sexist."

"It is."

Regina shrugs, offering the blonde a gesture with her hand to suggest she should simply deal with it and get over it. Rolling her eyes at the younger woman's petulant scowl, she returns to the closet and pulls open the large drawer which lines its base. She finds a pair of charcoal gray riding chaps- designed to be worn beneath a dress cut much like Snow's- supposing if she can find a shirt long enough, she can appease the irritable woman for the time being. She eventually manages to find a large, white shirt adorned with an exaggerated collar in the same drawer she'd found the tights she currently wears. She imagines it is meant as an item of sleepwear, but negates to share this with Emma; simply laying the items out on the bed before standing back with her hands on her hips.

"You're going to get some funny looks, Miss Swan."

"I've just spent the past week trekking around in a red leather jacket and denim pants, I can handle it."

The Queen splays the palms of her hands in a gesture that goads 'suit yourself' before running her fingers through her hair and giving the blonde a curt nod.

"Right, well I'll send someone up with the grass nettle when it's been properly prepared. In the meantime, I highly suggest a shower. The bathroom is four doors down the hall... I suppose I'll have to come back later to redress your injuries. I will come by in a while."

"Uh, yeah, ok... And, thanks... Mayor Mills."

The brunette raises a brow, full lips spreading into an expression somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

"Actually, _here_ , dear, I go by 'Your Majesty'... Good day, Miss Swan."

The brunette is halfway out of the door when the younger woman calls her back. Turning on a sharp heel, she regards the blonde quizzically, taking in the deep blush to her cheeks and the fact that the blanket now pools about her legs, revealing the bruised flesh at her ribs.

"Sheriff?"

"Umm..."

Emma casts her eyes down at her hands awkwardly, seemingly at a loss of what to say. Or how to say it.

"Well?"

Regina huffs impatiently; not used to dealing with the younger woman when she adopts this meek, demure persona, and not interested in learning how to do so.

"...My ribs hurt when I move my arm..."

"Well, there's probably some torn tissue under there, and the flesh that lies over them will be tender for a while. When the grass nettle is ready it should-"

"-It's not that, it's just, uh, I want to wash my hair... And I don't think I can..."

"I see... Well, I suppose I could find Snow... Mary Margaret."

" _No!-_ Sorry, no, don't, it's just, I don't want her to know that it hurts... Bad... I'm not so keen on having a bedside vigil, and there's a lot of worms just _dying_ to get out of the can we have held between us."

"Then what do you suggest, dear?"

"If _you_ could-"

"-Out of the question-"

"-Regina, please! Look, I'll wear my damn underwear, and you don't even have to _look_! I just need you to help with-"

"-Miss Swan, I am not _washing_ _your hair_!"

"Fine! Forget I asked!"

The blonde snarls angrily, and Regina suspects a large portion of her rage is due to embarrassment; the scarlet flare to her cheeks being a dead giveaway as she moves to get up, presumably to sort herself out. The Queen regards the younger woman with a deadpan expression, before making her way swiftly to the door.

" _Ah_! _Shit_!"

The brunette glances over her shoulder irritably, before turning around fully to study the Sheriff. Emma sits with her eyes squeezed shut and her legs draping off the bed, clutching her side with a shaking hand as she holds her left arm at an awkward angle. Rolling her eyes and thinning her lips, Regina stalks over to the bed and speaks sternly.

"Ok, come on then, get up."

" _Hha_ \- leave me alone!"

"Oh, stop it, here, hold onto my arm and get up. S _lowly!_ "

"What?... Why?"

"Because, if the coloring to your complexion, or rather, the _lack_ of it, is anything to go by, there's a good chance the next time you move like that to toss your toys out the pram, you'll pass out, and then I really _will_ leave Snow to deal with you."

"You're... You'll help me?"

"Just take my arm and shut up."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they reach the bathroom, the brunette is all but dragging the Sheriff along; hands fluttering awkwardly over pale limbs as she struggles to find a way in which to hold her that doesn't garner a sharp yelp from the younger woman.

"Well, _this_ is going well."

Regina muses irritably, and Emma glares at her; eyes narrowed. Regina pulls down the toilet seat cover blindly, before offloading the blonde onto it awkwardly. She takes a moment to regain her breath and runs her fingers distractedly through her hair.

"So, I'm going to go ahead and insist you have a bath rather than a shower."

"Seconded."

The Queen gives the younger woman one final glance of incredulous disbelief, before turning to the relatively dingy deep-set bath and turning the taps to induce a shuddering stream of copper-tinged water. Speaking over her shoulder, she crouches down and simply lets the warming water flow over her extended fingers.

" _Next_ time, dear, when someone asks you how the pain is, try being _honest_? I would argue this all now seems a _bad_ idea, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready to go through our little hallway experience again just yet."

"It's not so bad if I sit still..."

The blonde speaks through clenched teeth and Regina turns to study her as she waits for the tub to fill.

"In that case, I regret to inform you that there's no bubble bath, just a bar of soap, and if you think for a _second_ that I'm going to-"

"-I don't! It's fine, I'll be able to do most of it so long as I go slowly, it's just lifting my arm that's the problem."

Regina sighs as she imagines things are anything but 'fine' but cocks her head as she continues to regard the blonde with a small smirk.

"It really is a _shame_ that stubbornness tends not to be a commendable trait, dear, you truly are an expert."

"What can I say, I'm a hard-ass."

Emma offers a strained grin from which the Queen looks swiftly away. Over the past twenty-four hours, the endearingly _-Really? Endearing? Emma?!_ \- lopsided pull to the blonde's lips as she smiles in that ever sarcastic-tinged way has threatened to induce an expression much the same from her, and Regina refuses to allow such pleasantries to continue.

Sniffing as she shuts off the water, she turns to the woman in question and holds out her hand in a business-like manner. She is well aware- and imagines Emma is too- that the least painful way for them to do this is for her to try and lift the blonde into the bathtub, but she refuses to give this method of choice even a try. Instead, she grips the Sheriff's right hand tightly, while keeping her other hand hovering to the blonde's left to steady her if needed. Walking her slowly over to the bath she watches as Emma closes her eyes and takes in an audible breath before clambering into the warm water with a small noise of discomfort. Regina does her best to lower the younger woman down gently to sit with her back against the cold porcelain side, but the movement lacks any grace, and the Sheriff overbalances into the last few inches. Thankfully, the water softens the impact, but the brunette still hides a wince as Emma swears throatily under her breath.

"Okay?"

"Never better."

The Queen hands the blonde the bar of soap before making her way over to perch awkwardly on the covered toilet seat. She makes a point of looking away as the Sheriff struggles to clean herself; not overly enthused to be sat alone in a bathroom with a woman in her underwear- particularly one with whom she bares such grievances- or about watching Emma try to keep her face neutral as she makes pained movements.

"Should I take the dressings off now?"

The blonde fingers the sodden cotton curiously and Regina shakes her head, finally looking back at the younger woman to find her a much more human shade of pink without the additional layer of forest grime.

"No, leave them on, that water's filthy. We'll just redo them when we get back to the room, but for now, let's try and keep them at least _vaguely_ clean. Grass nettles I am familiar with, but a tetanus shot is not something I know how to replicate with leaves and herbs."

Emma nods and lowers her hand obediently, while the brunette muses that this is perhaps the most compliant she has ever seen the younger woman. In fact, she isn't sure she can _recall_ the last time she told the Sheriff to do something without receiving equal shares obstinacy and argument in response.

Making her way over to the tub, Regina kneels down on the worn, crocheted mat that lies before the bath and takes the soap from Emma. Realizing the shower head is permanently fixed to the wall, she debates for a moment simply turning it on and telling the blonde to close her eyes as it douses her with a messy jet of water, but opts instead to use one of the candle holders as a cup.

Clearing her throat against the awkwardness between them, she fills the cup from the graying bathwater and pours it over the Sheriff's tangled curls; turning bottled blonde to gold. She repeats the action in silence until the entirity of Emma's hair glistens wetly; inwardly berating the younger woman for having so damned _much_ of it. Rubbing the soap between her hands up into a lather, the brunette banishes all thought from her mind and works it gently into cornsilk tangles, careful not to rub too hard at the Sheriff's scalp, despite her filthy state, due to the recently healed fracture to the bone beneath.

Emma stares pointedly ahead as the brunette works, and the latter is silently grateful that the blonde has enough sense to forgo her usual sarcastic commentary on events. Just as well she supposes, as she imagines that _had_ Emma decided now was the time for one of her irksome little quips, she would be hard put not to yank viciously at the wet tangles she runs gently through her fingers.

_Hair like this, it's a crime she just lets it tangle and fall. If I had such hair I would braid it, style it, brush-_

The Queen shakes her head and reprimands her musings angrily, washing the flowery scented soap from the Sheriff's hair with repeated dips of the small cup. Once finished, she washes her hands primly in the sink and locates a towel from the airing cupboard; holding it out to Emma, who mutters her quiet gratitude and proceeds to struggle from the bath with a little help from the brunette.

Regina wraps the towel swiftly around the shivering blonde, fixing it in place at the front in a manner so business-like she avoids the situation becoming once more uncomfortable as she wedges the loose end between a fluffy fold and the Sheriff's damp bra. She moves quickly behind the younger woman and wrings out her long hair so that the droplets patter down onto the dingy mat, before taking her once more by the arm and starting the slow trek back to the room.

* * *

"Sno- Mary Margaret left you these."

Regina points to the dark blue undergarments lying on the chair, and smirks as she watches the blonde try to discern the use of the peculiar items. She imagines it is a lot more material than the younger woman is used to wearing. Picking up the high-waisted knickers and long-line brassier, she places them on the bed before turning pointedly away.

"Regina... Little help, please?"

"Miss Swan, I am _not_ -"

"-Oh, come on!"

The Queen turns back irritably to the younger woman who stands with her back towards her; the towel loosened and dropped so it hangs just clear of her bra. Realizing the issue, the brunette unclasps the item's tricky little teeth with a deft movement of her wrist before turning round once more.

She tries to block out the quiet hisses of exertion behind her.

"Oh-okay, can you help again?"

She turns to find the blonde, sans towel, but in much the same position- although trembling a little and audibly gritting her teeth- and moves aside her sodden hair so she can work together the intricate pearl clasps of the midnight blue brassier she now wears.

Turning to the small bundle of medical supplies left over from the previous night, she goes quickly about removing the sodden dressings from the Sheriff's chilled limbs, swiping the raw, bloodless lacerations with alcohol doused cotton swabs, before patching her up with new, pristinely white dressings.

Deciding she doesn't really want to have to keep hearing Emma all but beg, she takes the gray chaps from the bed without a word and bends over with them held out low to help the blonde step into them. The Sheriff gives her a peculiar look- her eyes searching pretty, defined features for any signs of foul play- before she rests her hand gingerly on the brunette's shoulder and works her legs into the somewhat itchy material.

"Dashing."

Regina smirks, as she watches the blonde struggle with the clasp one-handed. The chaps are slightly too wide at the waist whilst slightly too short. She imagines they'll be able to procure a belt from somewhere or other, but doesn't bother searching the wardrobe as she knows that- despite the _Sheriff's_ lack of femininity- a woman of this land and of the chaste the other clothes inside suggest wouldn't own such a thing.

_Well then, let that be the item that Snow can bestow on her sullen little piece of sugar and spice._

"I'm glad you think so."

Emma pouts her lips in a show of mock seduction when she realizes that cocking her hip is out, and the Queen rolls her eyes with a curious amount of good-naturedness. The brunette quickly helps the blonde into the billowy white shirt, and does up the small buttons which run its front without request. Personally, she thinks Emma looks rather dowdy with the oversized fabric drowning her and the dark woolen chaps hugging her skinny legs disproportionately, but the Sheriff has yet to start with her insufferable, negative grumbling, so she keeps such thoughts firmly to herself.

"Sit on the bed."

Emma throws her a curious glance but does as she's told- _again? There really_ must _be something amiss_ \- as Regina follows to perch behind her.

Lacking a comb, the brunette begins running her fingers through tangles just as stubborn as their owner; working Emma's long hair into a better behaved mass of damp tresses. Reaching around and pulling an elastic from the blonde's wrist as Emma opens her mouth in confusion, the Queen resumes battling cornsilk hair into submission. She moves up to balance on her knees atop the lumpy mattress- giving her a pronounced height advantage- and separates the younger woman's hair into three small sections from her crown. Braiding and adding continuously, she french braids long, wet curls without a word; enjoying having such long hair to work with and cordially ignoring whom it belongs to.

A quiet tap on the door causes both women to jump, and the brunette almost leaps from the bed to create some distance between them, before silently scolding herself and remaining where she is; tying the elastic at the base of the blonde's plait as she calls for their visitor to enter.

_Who would dare pass judgement on me... A fool. Only a fool._

A helmet-less guard enters the room warily; a ceramic jug which emits a nauseating odour held in his hands. If he has an opinion on the fact that his Queen is currently dressed in a way similar to that of a servant girl, toying with the hair of a women dressed all the more strangely, he wisely doesn't let it show, but merely bows down low.

"Your Majesty, the grass nettle tonic."

"Put it on the stool."

Emma takes in the situation curiously. Regina's tone is harsh and disinterested, and she neither thanks nor properly acknowledges the guard. Speaking up uncertainly, she takes on the responsibility herself.

"Thank you."

The brunette resists the urge to tug at the hair she still holds in irritation, and simply makes a dismissing gesture with her hand. When the guard doesn't leave immediately she frowns and repeats the gesture, her tone cruelly condescending when she speaks.

"That will be all."

"...My Queen, you are needed down in the Great Hall."

"Why should I be needed? I was under the impression current liaisons were being dealt with by Snow White."

"Your Majesty, it is about your mother; the kingdom will be expecting a public burial, and-"

"-fine. Go. I will be down shortly."

The anger in the Queen's voice is dangerously audible and the guard takes his leave swiftly, bowing low once more before retreating into the safety of the hallway. Regina climbs stiffly down from the blonde's bed, smoothing out her skirt as she keeps her lips in a tight line. She stalks over to the jug left on the stool and brings it to the bed, never sparing the blonde a second glance.

"You drink this as you would water. Its taste is foul, but you will feel better for it-"

"-Your mother?"

"...Drink half of this now, and half later. I imagine Snow will be by shortly with something edible."

"Regina, what-"

"-Get some rest, Miss Swan."

The brunette instructs curtly before taking her leave; aware that green eyes bore into her as she goes, but paying the younger woman no mind. She shuts the door with a little extra force than possibly needed; slamming the blonde away to her thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

"Emma..."

"What?!"

The blonde huffs as she trails after Snow; shooting a poisonous glance at the tittering maids that hurry past with pointed looks of disdain. _Silent_ disdain, however. They are in the presence of Royalty.

"You couldn't have just worn the clothes I put out for you?"

"I don't wear dresses."

"And no one back home would have needed to _know_ about it!"

The schoolteacher rolls her eyes amiably, slowing down her pace as the blonde winces slightly.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just a little stiff more than anything."

"Well, I could have brought you some food to your room..."

"I think if I'd stayed in that room any longer I'd have gone crazy! And I'm interested to take a look around... You know... _Without_ the adrenalin rush of oncoming death."

Snow chuckles as she leads them into a large dining hall, pointing to a pair of seats at the end of a long, mahogany table at which plates and cutlery have been neatly laid out. Emma raises an eyebrow curiously as a drably clad maid scurries out seemingly from nowhere and lays down twin bowls of fresh fruit and a peculiar looking broth. Deciding it can't be any worse than the Grass Nettle tonic, the blonde takes a sip gingerly, eyes widening as she realizes it's actually pretty good.

"So... How does this all work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, who's in _charge_ at the moment? People seem to be doing what you want and acting all... _Servanty_... But then this guy upstairs referred to Regina as the Queen and... I don't..."

"It _is_ a rather peculiar situation, yes. I'm not _actually_ all too sure myself; your father and I ruled this land back when things were good, but as it has since been overtaken by Cora, I suppose it puts Regina in the rather unique position that she is also considered this land's royalty."

"About Cora... What happened to her? I don't remember anything much after she made me... Fly?"

The blonde frowns as she searches for the right word to describe the terrifying floating sensation bestowed upon her by the old Queen, while spearing a strawberry with her fork and nibbling at it as she studies her housemate inquisitively.

"She knocked you out, and then... Regina stopped her from hurting you any more than she already had."

"Regina was there?"

"She went up to find you after she appeared in the dungeon... As for what happened, I'm not entirely sure, I only know what little Regina told me, but Cora..."

"She's dead. That's what the guard said."

"Yes."

"Regina?"

"Yes."

"Shit..."

Emma sighs; brow furrowing as she glares moodily down at her half-eaten breakfast. She isn't entirely sure what to do with this new information; her mind already saturated with the chaotic mess of emotion the past week has thrown at her.

"She didn't tell me..."

The younger woman murmurs, and Snow frowns in confusion as she watches the blonde sigh melancholily. She is unsure why her housemate should be so distraught over the fact the older woman has negated to share her bleak news, but supposes Emma may be feeling victim to a small sense of guilt; presumably assuming that Regina had acted on her behalf.

"Regina's not one to speak candidly about her feelings..."

"No... I know."

They sit in uncomfortable silence as the maid hurries back over and begins clearing away their plates.

"I can do it-"

But, Emma trails off as the woman throws her an ill-disguised glance of curiosity before looking to Snow as if in request for an explanation as to the peculiar blonde.

"...I think I'd like to go get some fresh air."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's just started to snow and you're-"

"-Fine... I'm fine. That nettle crap works way better than any pain killers back home. I just... I want to try and sort my head out... Alone."

She smiles apologetically as Snow hovers in her seat, ready to follow her. The schoolteacher sighs, but sits back down, trying her best to hide her hurt at Emma's kind rejection.

"Well, Ok... But don't go too far-"

She shrugs as green eyes glint dangerously; more than aware the blonde isn't a fan of advice- however well meaning- and holds her gaze carefully.

"The grounds are vast, and you have no idea where you're going. So far as I know, no one here poses us any threat, but it would be foolish to harbor no caution at all. Just... Don't wander off and get into trouble, ok?"

Emma's scowl softens and she offers Mary Margaret a much more genuine smile, nodding her head in acceptance of her housemate's request.

"You'll need a cloak."

The words have barely left perfectly red lips before a second maid steps from the shadows, holding out a heavy winter cloak with her head graciously bowed.

"Uh, thanks."

Shaking out the soft material curiously, Emma dons the heavy fabric; cautious of the pain in her side. She smooths out the soft leather which covers a lining of thick fur and raises an eyebrow at the schoolteacher who seems torn between appreciation and amusement.

"Where do I put my arms?"

"Wherever you like; it's a cloak, it's meant to _cover_ you, not fit you."

The blonde fusses at the long fur that lines her neck distractedly, feeling swamped by the heavy layer, and supposing she looks very odd indeed. As for wearing a cloak, this is a first, but back in the normal world- the _sane_ world- she had tried to steer clear of whites and creams; fearing their soft, angelic hue may not just be misleading, but also cause her complexion to seem deathly pale.

"You look..."

Snow shrugs, stopping herself before she can say anything that will garner her a rolling of eyes or irritable huff. Instead she merely rises from her seat and walks over, straightening the high collar at the blonde's neck before offering her a warm smile.

"Just you wait. I'll bet once we get home you'll be scouring the stores for something similar!"

Emma laughs, glancing down at herself in amusement before tossing her long curls amiably.

"I somehow doubt that..."

* * *

"It will be a closed casket; there are none in this land that my mother would consider a true companion save for myself, and I have already seen the body. You are to dress her in the same gown she wore when she married my father."

"Your Majesty... That gown is white, and I am unsure if-"

"-Silence. You will dress her in that gown and no other. She shall be laid to rest as she was at her best, not at her worst. Let there be a ceremony in two days time, here, at the palace-"

"- But, My Queen, what if Snow White-"

"-She will allow it. It is how this must be done."

"Are you sure, Your Highness?"

"You dare question me?!... Yes. I am sure. Snow will allow it... Her daughter will make it so if she should resist."

"The blonde? She hardly seems like-"

"-Like what?"

"... She is not familiar with our ways... That much has been obvious."

"No. And _you_ are not familiar with _hers_. Snow will do as Emma wills of her if it has to come to that... It shall be held here in the grounds and be a formal affair. We are honoring the passing of royalty... Any goodness my mother once possessed should have been mourned years ago."

"...And should the people ask for a cause of death, Your Majesty?"

"Then they shall be told the truth. She died of a broken heart."

"What about the flowers-"

"-Whatever the Royal Guard deems fit... Now go... I'm growing tired of these questions."

Regina waves her hand in a distracted fashion, watching the young man hurry back to the safety of the small look-out building beside which they had been standing.

 _Those helmets really_ are _ridiculous now I come to think of it..._

She ponders briefly what the blonde will have made of them when first approached by any of her men, before pushing away the thought irritably. She wonders distastefully why her mind should suddenly be plagued so by the irksome Sheriff.

_Rather thoughts of that idiotic little nuisance than of the woman destroyed to save her..._

"It was a case of what was _right_... Emma had nothing to do with it."

She mutters irritably as she makes her way slowly over to one of the stone benches that surround the topiary garden before her. She takes a seat, paying the fat, white flakes of softly falling snow little mind. Her expression is hard, thoughtful, and her lips form a thin line of discontent.

She is unsure what it is that she is supposed to be feeling. Despite the cause of death mirroring her father's passing, the emotions threatening to surface now are entirely different. She supposes she feels an odd sense of remorse, but not as much as she had perhaps anticipated. What she feels, if it can be _called_ feeling, is something much closer to relief. _Love_. But relief.

_"Love is weakness, Regina, you know that..."_

Oh, doesn't she just.

She thinks back to what both Snow and Emma had mentioned; about discussing her son with her mother. The thought fills her with a cold sense of dread that makes her bones ache.

"I couldn't let her live... Not if I want Henry back..."

The notion of wanting Henry 'back' is a peculiar one. She can't quite remember the exact point in time at which he was taken from her. Not physically anyway. As for deducing at what point he had become Emma's and not solely her own... well, she doesn't know. She is wise enough to imagine such hateful facts occurred long before the blonde leaned in to kiss him.

Shaking such thoughts away, she simply sits, and watches the heavy dusting of snow settle slowly over the inane animals carved within the hedges like virginally pure frosting, moving every now and then only to shake the flakes from her dark hair.

* * *

Emma slows her already cautious pace nervously as she spots a figure up ahead. So far, her wandering around the impressive- disturbingly so- palace grounds has been completely uneventful. Closer to the main entrance she had encountered several men going about their chores, headed in the direction of what she assumes were stables judging by the gear they had carried. Since then, she has been left mercifully alone.

Frowning, and wishing not for the first time she had her glasses with her- her contacts having been discarded after the second day in the Enchanted Forest; no longer fit for use, and becoming painful- she takes a hesitant couple of steps closer. Noticing that whoever sits ahead appears to have their back to her, she becomes slightly more bold and stalks curiously onwards, until she recognizes the dark hair and graceful posture belonging to the woman sitting out alone in the snow.

Regina frowns, wondering who on earth would be brave enough- _foolish_ enough- to dare take a seat beside her. Glaring over, she lets out a sigh and regards the blonde with a touch of amusement.

"Christ, what happened to _you_!?"

She eyes the pale cloak the younger woman wears pointedly, her mind instinctively dismissing the idea that the blonde looks rather lovely indeed with her pale curls falling over the cream leather and fur; at some point removed from the intricate french plait she had worn earlier. Almost regal.

"Fetching, isn't it?"

Emma grins sarcastically, before averting her attention to the painstakingly crafted vegetative art form before her.

"Shit, that's pretty impressive. Hell knows why you'd _want_ anything like that, but still!"

"You're feeling slightly better then, dear?"

The Queen muses cattily as she bites back a smirk at the Sheriff's mannerisms. She would be curious to know what the locals make of the young woman sat beside her.

"Yeah, a lot... Thanks. That nettle stuff tastes like crap, but it works."

"Good."

Regina joins the blonde in staring directly ahead; a little unnerved to have Emma sat quite so close and so casual now that the adrenalin fueled by her worry for the younger woman's health has dissipated.

"Uh, so... Mary Margaret told me about... What happened..."

"Did she?"

"Yeah... With Cora, I mean..."

"Yes, well... I imagine you're not too broken up about it, Miss Swan. In fact, I dare say you should feel a sense of _relief_."

"Maybe... But it's not _me_ I'm concerned about."

The brunette blinks, momentarily at a loss of what to think, before her lips form a hard, unfriendly line and she turns to the blonde irritably.

"Then I suggest you save such _wasted_ emotions, Miss Swan. I do not want- nor need- your concern."

Emma shies away visibly, but proceeds to simply shrug her shoulders beneath their heavy shroud and go back to studying the ever whitening scenery. After what seems like an age, the Queen glances at her slyly from the corner of her eye and sighs.

"You should get back inside; the grass nettle numbs your pain receptors, but you're still healing..."

"I do not want- nor need- your concern, Regina."

The brunette rolls her eyes, but deduces the younger woman's tone to be more a dutiful tribute to their turbulent relationship than actual petulance.

"Be that as it may, I imagine you'll think otherwise when it wears off and you're sat here in the freezing cold."

She brushes some of the heavy flakes from the blonde's long hair, lips twitching as Emma flinches ever so slightly as she raises her hand.

"The relationship between my mother and myself was a complicated one, Miss Swan, as I am sure you can imagine. While I mourn her passing, I wish to do so in my own way, and without unwanted solace from yourself... As long as she'd had lived, I would now fear for Henry. It was not an _easy_ choice, but it was a simple one."

"Okay."

Regina blinks, regarding the Sheriff curiously as the younger woman simply nods and carries on watching the snow settle. She is somewhat surprised at Emma's easy acceptance and respect for her request, and finds herself- not for the first time- warming slightly to the blonde.

Hastily battling such thoughts aside, the Queen rises and clears her throat, casting her eyes to the gray skies and watching the infinite flakes in their descent.

"I'm growing cold. I think I'll head back to the Castle to warm up."

She says nothing more and doesn't have to. The Sheriff pushes herself up from the bench, wincing slightly, and simply waits expectantly to follow. Sighing, and looking down at her feet as she begins walking away from the gardens, the brunette remains silent as Emma falls easily in step next to her.

"Regina, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, I imagine you could manage if you put your mind to it..."

"How did you get here?"

"To this world?"

"...Sure."

The Queen nods briskly; making it clear that this is the _only_ branch of the blonde's ambiguous wording she plans to discuss.

"An old method; a combination of what I knew of magic."

"I thought you could no longer use magic back home?"

"I used it the night with the Wraith, didn't I?"

"Yes... But I thought...I-"

"-You thought wrong. It merely took me a while to get the hat to work... Magic is still difficult to access and control in Storybrooke. It's different, but it exists in a certain form..."

"Like when I kissed Henry?"

"... Yes."

"So what form did you use, then? Could it get us back?"

"That is a good question, Miss Swan, but one which we shall discuss with your moth- Mary Margaret present as well. It is, after all, something she will need to be a part of."

"Well, why not get her now?"

"I wish to change now that I have found access to garments more in line with my stature, and you need to rest."

"I'm fine!"

"Ah, well then _I_ need a rest from _you_!"

Dark eyes glitter impishly, and the brunette suppresses a surprised gasp as the blonde kicks some of the freshly fallen snow at their feet at her. She can't recall anyone ever having done something quite so childish or quite so _dangerous_ in her presence before. Her first instinct is to smite the Sheriff where she stands. Instead, she reaches up above them slyly and flicks an overhanging branch; sending a flurry of icy dust down onto the younger woman.

"Hey!"

"An eye for an eye, Miss Swan."

"...Makes the whole world blind, Madame Mayor."

Regina raises an eyebrow as they close in on the impressive stone of the castle. Reaching the large guarded doors, she turns to the blonde and regards her levelly.

"Much as I _detest_ the thought of a sit down dinner with _either_ of you, it is perhaps the most appropriate setting in which to discuss the matters at hand. You will find me on the fourth floor in the green doored suite. Take the main stairs, not the servant stairway, or you'll never find it. I'll leave it to you to organize things with Snow. Come and tell me at what time you would like to proceed with dinner."

"I guess."

"Something wrong?"

"... I doubt I'm much more enthusiastic than _you_ are about sitting down to dinner!"

"Well, if you feel you _don't_ need my help, then I'd be more than happy to-"

"-It's not _you_ , it's the thought of the three of us trying to carry out a civil conversation!"

Emma retorts waspishly. The brunette smirks; she is inwardly a little surprised at how hastily the Sheriff has rushed to explain her feelings are not those of animosity. Dark lips forming a salacious smile, she cocks her head, before nodding the younger woman adieu.

"I promise to be on my best behaviour, dear, and you best get a move on unless you wish to eat anything quick to prepare... I dare not imagine what morsels you and Snow have been surviving off for the past few days, but let's just say, if you don't get your affairs in order, we will most likely be suffering through a bowl of some sort of stew... And not one concocted of _beef,_ either."

Her smile widens into a full blown grin as she watches Emma take her leave and hurry down the vast hallway as fast as her aching limbs will permit her to go.


	9. Chapter 9

"Typical."

Emma glances up at Snow who sits tapping her nails on the expansive mahogany table. The older woman's eyes are fixed on the heavy doors that line the far side of the room impatiently, and the blonde can't help but feel that some of her housemate's irritation is directed towards _her_.

"I told her the time... She wanted to change..."

"Well then I was right to call her typical. Regina and vanity have been inseparable since birth."

The Sheriff merely shrugs, looking over at one of the maids who stands dutifully against the wall and glaring at the woman until the latter lowers her gaze. She is growing used to the way the inhabitants of the land double-take at her to drink in her obscurities, but it's goddamn _tiring_ none the less. She supposes she hasn't helped matters by appropriating a small, grey waistcoat found in one of the rooms adjacent to Regina's. The garment is meant for a ten to twelve year old boy if the pants and shirts that had played its neighbours were anything to go by, but it fits her well. She could go so far as to say it was flattering, but she holds no delusion that anyone else would agree.

"I just hope we're not being foolish in trusting her..."

"We can trust her."

"You sound so sure?"

"I know Regina."

"You think I _don't_?"

"She _needs_ us. If she didn't, she wouldn't have come looking for us. She needs us to prove herself to Henry. She had a perfect opportunity to let me die and blame it on innocent misfortune, but instead she did what she could to help out. If she planned on causing us any harm, she would have _done_ so already."

"I suppose... I would still hesitate to tell her too much..."

"To tell her _what_? We're out of ideas Mary Margaret! If the woman wants to know my damn pin number, hell, my fucking _bra size_ she can have it!"

"Perhaps just the first, dear."

The two seated women glance up simultaneously as Regina slips gracefully into the room. The brunette takes in the image they portray with a smirk; Snow's dress leaving no question as to her status, sitting rigidly in her high-backed chair beside Emma, who looks up at her bare-faced, messy haired and clad in a way oddly reminiscent of a Victorian chimney sweep.

Making her way elegantly over to the table, the Queen pretends at first not to notice the way green eyes flicker over her feverishly. She has managed to find clothes much more befitting to her person, and wears a sinfully low-cut velvet dress that clings to her liquidly. A diamond harness-necklace centers her breasts and her lips are stained blood red. Taking up her seat at the end of the table, she glances over at the blonde sharply with a knowing flash of dark eyes, and the younger woman swiftly appears suddenly engrossed in the ceiling.

"My apologies for the wait, I do hope you weren't too bored."

She directs this last part at Emma who pays it little mind. Mary Margaret purses her lips and tries to resist muttering over at her housemate that she had been right to question the necessity of this dreaded evening.

With everyone present and accounted for, a flurry of servants spill into the room armed with heavy platters, uncorked wine and jugs of mead. They lay out the delectable spread with practiced precession, keeping their heads bowed and eyes lowered. Once the food sits steaming on the large table, they step back, curtseying low as Snow smiles at them gratefully.

"That will be all, thank you."

She advises, while Regina looks over at the maids who remain standing against the wall and barks at them harshly

"You as well. Leave us."

The maids scurry out, leaving a heavy silence behind them. Snow and Regina seem completely unfazed by this and go about filling up their plates from the curious selection which sits before them. Emma follows suit, deciding to try a little of everything with the notion that if the damned _Mayor_ will eat it, it's probably pretty good.

As the blonde reaches for the jug of mead, she feels bright eyes rest on her warily. Looking up at Mary Margaret, she sighs, pointedly pouring herself an extra large glass before placing the jug back onto the table. A stubborn sip later has her realising the castle's mead is notably stronger than that proffered by Lancelot- _Cora... whatever..._ \- and she blushes sheepishly. She silently reasons that she doubts Grass Nettle Tonic requires the same caution as Real World medicines when it comes to alcohol. She supposes she'll find out.

"So..."

The Sheriff surveys the two women who play her company awkwardly. Regina raises a shapely brow, seemingly unaffected by the tension in the room, while Snow spears a small piece of leek onto her fork and regards her thoughtfully. Turning her attention to the Queen, the raven headed woman appropriates a cold tone.

"Well, Regina, you know why we're here. How do we go about getting back to Storybrooke?"

The brunette sips her wine thoughtfully, before cutting up a tender piece of meat as she speaks.

"There are several ways I imagine..."

"We tried to use the wardrobe-"

"- _Emma_..."

Mary Margaret warns as the blonde pipes up, the latter glad to be able to offer some knowledge whilst in this strange land.

"What?! If we need her help, we need to cover all bases!"

"Quite...Continue, Miss Swan."

"The wardrobe...The enchanted one Mar- Snow and Charming- used to ship baby me off to Maine... We had thought if we were able to fix it somehow or find... Magic... To restore it, we could use it to get back... But it's destroyed."

"Well, it's not a _completely_ irrational idea, but I have my doubts as to if you'd have managed to make it work."

"Whether we could or couldn't is irrelevant, the wardrobe is _gone_. How did _you_ get here?"

Snow regards the older woman irritably, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the entire situation. The brunette glares at her but carries on stiffly.

"Merely an observation, my dear Snow. As for myself, I arrived here using magic. A hair off your head- or pillow- and one belonging to your beloved Charming. True Love, you see, is the strongest magic of all. I intertwined the hairs, much as that little imp did when I cast the curse, and procured Miss Swan's diabolical attempt of a hat from Jefferson-"

"-I _knew_ you knew who he was!"

"My apologies, dear, it must have slipped my mind... As I was saying, I used the magic created by your love to open a porthole. It stood to reason that it would bring me through to either one of you, but alas, I was never one hundred percent positive...Lucky for you both, I was successful."

"So...How do we do that in reverse?"

Regina glances at Emma, the Sheriff's cheeks pink with excitement- or mead- as she jumps to the conclusion that things are going to be just as simple here.

"That is not an option... The hat is useless; without magic it is simply a very poorly manufactured piece of clothing. In this land I _have_ magic, but to get to another land... No simple spell or enchantment is capable of such a thing. The magic required to cross the realms is old magic. Dead magic."

"Dead magic?"

"I would say so... When your mother and father ruled this land and I threatened them with the curse, I have since learned that the tree from which the wardrobe- _your_ wardrobe if you wish to call it that- was carved was one of the very last of its kind. Hence the sorrow and loneliness which followed you. There are no more trees, and there is no chance at a curse...I have heard rumor of a bean-"

"- A bean? What, like jack and the fucking beanstalk?"

"Precisely."

The blonde turns to glance at her housemate as though to check she isn't being toyed with, but Mary Margaret's frown seems less one of disbelief than one of curiosity.

"I thought the beans had been lost with the Great Giant War?"

"I believe so too, and I would hazard a guess that the words spread about them are rumors and nothing but."

"Isn't there a legend of a compass that lies at the top of the stalk?"

"There is, and that was what initially gained my interest... Looking through some of the books down in your library before dinner however, all accounts agree that the beanstalk carries with it an enchantment which will repel any who try to climb it."

"Well, you're a witch, can't you zap it or something?"

Regina turns to Emma with a roll of her eyes, briefly wondering- not for the first time- how it is that the asinine young woman came to best her.

"I do not find the term 'witch' to be tasteful, Miss Swan, I am simply the Queen, but being a scholar of magic for a great number of years, oddly enough I was never instructed to 'zap' anything. As for casting a counter-spell, I am not able. My mother created the original enchantment, and she alone would have had the power to break it or find a way around it. Magic is a little trickier than the television would have you believe."

Snow barely resists rolling her eyes as she catches the blonde muttering something about how it could be that Harry Potter managed on just seven years while constantly on the run from ridiculous deaths, when the Queen has had over twenty odd years of sitting on her ass in an unsuspecting town to think up neat little tricks just like the one they now need. Shooting Emma a warning glance, she turns back to the brunette and narrows her eyes.

"Then what _do_ you suggest?"

"I believe we should discount the compass, which leaves... Older methods."

"Which would be?"

"There _are_ portholes which still hold magic enough to do what we need, you've just been looking in the wrong place... The Enchanted Forest is not the place to meet our needs... If we were to go out to sea, however..."

"... _Ursula_..."

The raven headed woman lets the word fall from her lips dangerously, her eyes conveying her displeasure at the idea of bargaining with the Sea Witch. The Sheriff, however, swallows her mouthful of mead and regards the other two women with flustered bemusement.

"Wait, wait, wait... Ursula? Like, the Little Mermaid octopus woman?!"

"The very same, only I suggest you don't call her that, dear."

Regina smirks, taking a sip of her wine as her dark eyes sparkle at the blonde who stares at her with her glass raised halfway up to her mouth. The Queen notes absently that the younger woman holds the glass with her left hand and considers warning Emma that the Grass Nettle is only blocking her pain for a short while, but she decides not to do so in front of her mother.

_Why such a thought would even occur to me is decidedly odd... The Swan woman is no longer my concern..._

Snow pulls her from her thoughts as she carries on in a low tone.

"To risk crossing paths with Ursula would be _suicide_..."

"Why? Can't Regina sort her out? I thought you were the big daddy over here?"

"The 'big daddy'...?

The brunette raises an eyebrow; tickled at the blonde's phrasing. Emma shrugs, elaborating slowly.

"I thought you and Rumplestiltskin were the ones to look out for... Ursula isn't even _mentioned_ in Henry's book, she can't be all that bad."

"Ursula is not mentioned in that book because it does not pay reference to those from other lands unless for explicit reason. I am flattered that you believe me to be all-powerful, dear, but the difficulty lies in that fact that magic from other lands does not always mix well. The Sea Queen is impervious to my brand of magic, however we ourselves are slaves to simple things such as oxygen. She is powerful- and some say mad- but she is the only definite way to a porthole."

"Will there be one to Storybrooke?"

The blonde inquires skeptically as Snow raises an eyebrow in question.

"She controls the sea, and thus the portholes which are created from its waters. I am unsure precisely what she would need, but if it is Storybrooke to which we wish to return then it is there that she will send us... Or rather, it is there that she _can_ send us."

"She's not been known to be so easy to bargain with."

Now chips in apprehensively, and Emma considers this with a roll of her eyes before glancing pointedly at Regina.

"Huh, kind of like someone _we_ know..."

"The Sea Witch and I are _nothing_ alike, I can assure you. Unfortunately for us, nor does she work under the golden imp's way of demanding something in return for something else. We have little that would be of interest to her, apart from our company... _My_ company..."

"Yours?"

"And perhaps your mother's."

Snow frowns, taking a nervous sip of her wine as the Queen nods, carrying on in a lower tone, free from its usual richness.

"Ursula is a woman who cloaks herself in power, and she has little interest in surrounding herself with any that are not of symbolic worth. She and I have had the opportunity to converse on several occasions; my standing and my... Moralistic views... Being favourable to her. We can only hope that your mother's status as Ruler of this land will count for something..."

"Okay..."

"We will _also_ hope that your bloodline speaks for something, Miss Swan. I will say this much however, and you must both listen to me very closely: The Sea Witch is a dangerous woman. In seeking her out, we are already putting ourselves at risk. Snow, you best hope your stature precedes anything that she has heard about you. Miss Swan... You just pray she still sees a drop of honor in the concept of family. If we do this, you do not speak unless I tell you to. You do not do _anything_ without my express say so... I need you to tell me you understand this...Understand that while I will _help_ you, I am not _responsible_ for either of you."

"Understood."

"Understood... I guess..."

The brunette nods, finishing off her wine and rising to leave. With a hard glance at Emma, she turns her attention to Snow and addresses her sternly.

"You know the stories about the Sea Witch, you have them documented in your library... Those stories are true. As you know, Ursula was an acquaintance of my mother's, and I have heard several more. Think on them tonight. You may want to clue in your daughter, but I'll leave such decisions up to you. She's _your_ responsibility... I would advise doing so, though..."

Snow nods slowly, watching the brunette leave before calling in the servants. Turning to Emma, she beckons for the younger woman to leave the table, leading her down the great hallway towards the library.


	10. Chapter 10

The brunette studies herself appreciatively as she sits in front of the ornate dressing table in her newly claimed suite. She had worn her hair swept back stylishly to dinner and now busies herself brushing out her soft locks peacefully. She raises an eyebrow at a soft knock at her door; wondering for a moment who could possibly have any business seeking her council- especially when she has retired to her room- before adopting a knowing smirk, her eyes glittering pleasantly.

"Come in."

"Regina."

"Oh... It's you."

"Were you expecting someone else?"

The schoolteacher inquires curiously; sure the Queen's scarlet lips had been pulled into a small smile only seconds ago. Of course, the brunette's instant coldness could also be attributed to her well publicized distaste for Snow herself.

"No, dear, I would just think it to be a little late for social visits."

"Well, that's too bad, because we need to talk."

"Oh?"

Regina's tone is haughty and arrogant, but she watches the younger woman as she takes a seat at the end of her bed through the glass, raising an eyebrow as a sign that Snow should continue.

"I've spent the last week racking my brains on ways to get back to Storybrooke, and I'll admit that I have no other options to bring to the table as it were... But, I need to ask you... Do you _really_ believe Ursula is our only chance?"

"Well, I wouldn't have _suggested_ it if I thought otherwise."

"I know. I just needed to ask..."

"Why?... Which one of you is getting cold feet?"

The brunette turns round on her stool to fix the raven headed woman with a scrutinizing stare. Mary Margaret sighs loftily, before her shoulders slump and she regards the floor.

"Oh, _Emma_ seems to be under the impression that this might actually be 'kind of fun'..."

"Naivety is a terrible family trait... Did you show her the stories documented on the Sea Witch?"

"... Most of them."

"Ah, now why does that give me pause?"

"She knew the story of Ariel, of course... At least, the first part anyway; the part that was told in the Disney cartoon... I explained the rest of it to her. She... Well, she didn't seem all that _bothered_."

"How much did you tell her?"

"That the red merwoman was tricked into living a life of crippling pain and punishment above water while the Sea Witch single-handedly massacred Triton and his people... That she took his throne and kept the survivors enslaved... That she never returned the mermaid's voice, but kept it as her own..."

"And this didn't faze her?"

The schoolteacher frowns as she shakes her head.

"No. I think... We heard a _lot_ this week... Saw and _went through_ a lot this week. Ursula's legend is just one more reason she wants to get home... She understands the witch is evil, but I don't think she understands the _magnitude_ of it. She-"

"-She's battled a dragon, been sucked into another land by a Wraith, was almost _beheaded_ by an ogre as far as I understand, and has been tossed into a pit by a man who turned out to be the mother of her dearest enemy, who then proceeded to try and smash her into tiny, broken pieces against a castle wall. In the space of a _week_... I imagine Miss Swan was in fact fairly _unimpressed_ by Ariel's suffering."

"...Exactly."

Snow glances up at the brunette quizzically, astonished at the Queen's insight to the blonde's behavior. Regina merely shrugs, turning back to her reflection and proceeding to lean forwards to inspect her pores.

"Then she is foolish, but not as foolish as her mother."

"Excuse me?"

"Ariel's story and the plight of the Tritonians is nothing now but juicy gossip left over from a time when you would have barely been able to walk. It is just one of many travesties to occur at the hands of the Sea Queen, and it is most _certainly_ not the reason for which you have come to disturb me tonight... Am I to deduce then, that you told your precious little girl nothing _more_ of Ursula's wrath?"

"What _good_ is it telling her of such things?!"

"She has a right to know why her mother finds herself so worried. Tell me, Snow, which of the many legends and rumors _have_ bought you here to me tonight?"

"...You know which one."

"...Delphine."

"Yes."

"Well, dear, then you can rest easy, as not _one_ of us holds the same position as _that_ poor wretch."

"...Emma-"

"-Is the Fair Queen's daughter. She is not Delphine."

"Regina... You said yourself that I'll be lucky if my reputation doesn't prove to be my curse... Ursula's hunger for power and extravagance will leave her sorely disappointed by my rule, as you hinted. The fact that Emma is considered royalty in this land only through her blood tie to myself at this moment in time puts her in what I would foresee as a very precarious position. Never _mind_ the fact that she was never this land's 'princess', whom the people witnessed grow and change and blossom... Or that she's... well... _Emma_."

"Then _do_ something about it! You were so desperate to play the mother; now's your chance. You _stop_ her from being 'Emma'... If she does _that,_ theSea Queen may even take a _liking_ to her... Curiosity always _was_ her greatest vice."

"... And what about when her curiosity has been _sated_... I trust you recall how the story of Delphine _ends_?"

The Queen glances at the paler woman as she sits reflected morosely within the sliver glass. Her brow furrows for just a moment before she tosses back her hair and turns back to regard Snow levelly.

"All too well, dear. Delphine; the youngest daughter of a fisherman who fell to the mercy of the sea when her father's boat capsized. A mermaid of the Mulieres Mares took pity on the drowning girl and pulled her down to the Land Below Water. There she was nurtured and comforted by her savior until the Queen received word of the girl. Ursula sought young Delphine out, intent on getting rid of her, but was transfixed by the young girl's beauty. She offered the merwoman who had taken responsibility for Delphine a promise of good fortune should she hand over the girl to the Queen's court. The merwoman bravely refused, but Delphine was bold and spoke up that she was not to be bartered for; presuming life with the Sea Queen would be rich with luxury, thus allowing Ursula to take ownership of her there and then. The Sea Queen toyed with the young girl and used her for any form of vile amusement her heart desired, before eventually growing tired of Delphine's company as the girl became broken and used. When she deemed her useless, she stripped the girl bare and proceeded to lash her until she bled freely, releasing her into the eel pit where she was consumed to nothing but bone..."

The brunette's eyes glitter fiercely as she recites the tale's grizzly conclusion, studying the paler woman who shudders visibly. Turning to put away her brush and several small pieces of jewellery, the Queen's voice is stern when she speaks.

"Emma is not Delphine."

"... But what will become of her, of _any_ of us, if Ursula decides she doesn't take kindly to our trespassing with a plea for help...?"

"I don't care to think about such outcomes, dear."

"That's because you know exactly why I'm here... Why I thought on poor Delphine."

"And why's that?"

"... Look...I _know_ you dislike Emma, and I know your hatred for myself runs black and deep, but right now that doesn't matter. You _need_ us to get back to Henry, so you have no choice but to listen to me... I followed my daughter into that hateful hat because I couldn't stand taking a chance that anything would happen to her. _Evidently_ , my mere presence is not enough. You know as well as I do that if Ursula decides she wants to play us in any way that she's going to go for Emma. Blood only means so much when in another land... I fear for myself, but I fear for my daughter more... And I need you to give me your word that you will do _everything_ within your power to keep her from hurting Emma, however much you may want her to."

"... I believe I've made it fairly _clear_ that I don't wish any harm to come to Emma."

"For which I am grateful... But you have been given a great many chances before, Regina, and sometimes-"

"- I will not allow Ursula to hurt Emma. Not when it is within my power to stop her from doing so."

"...Thank you."

Regina rises; walking over to the door in a clear request that the schoolteacher take her leave.

"As you two _keep_ reminding each other; I need you both alive. Now. Go and take care of your daughter. Her dressings will need changing and I would guess the Grass Nettle has long since worn off... You will need to keep a small stock of it once we leave here, as she is likely to still be in pain. Go to your daughter, and go tell her a bedtime story. She should know the story of Delphine, for no other reason than that it serves to show the Sea Queen's true malice. See to her, and inform her that we shall be leaving this place at noon."

Snow nods, making her way quickly to the door, eagerly wishing to distance herself from the brunette. Turning to regard the older woman briefly before she slips out the room, her voice is quiet; not quite believing everything that seems to be happening.

"...We're really going to the Land Beneath Water..."

"Yes, dear, indeed we are."


	11. Chapter 11

Moving quietly, the brunette stalks over to the drawn curtains of the Sheriff's small bedroom. She pulls them open briskly, hoping that the light which now pours hazily into the room will rouse the blonde. When no cries of indignation are bestowed upon her, she turns around curiously. The sight she is met with causes her to chuckle beneath her breath. The younger woman appears to have wriggled down the length of the bed in sleep, and now all that remains visible are two paper-pale hands, palms up and fingers splayed as though reaching for help.

As though drowning.

"Miss Swan."

Her tone is loud and unfairly irritable, but she'd rather it was so than to have her voice betraying her sudden discomfort. Slender fingers twitch comically as her bark wakes the blonde, and the darker woman watches with a smirk as Emma lowers the blanket just enough to peer up at her sleepily; her hair a tousled nightmare.

"Regina?"

"Good morning."

"What time is it?"

"High time you got yourself ready... Or had you forgotten about our little upcoming adventure"

"I thought we weren't going until lunchtime?"

"You thought correctly, dear. It seemed like a sensible idea to me however, that I make a few things clear before we leave."

"Ursula's evil, I get it, _I get it,_ I don't-"

"Well, then you should have no trouble understanding my reason for visiting you this morning."

"What-"

Green eyes narrow in confusion as the Queen holds up a small bundle of fabric, before the younger woman's sleepy bewilderment abates and she shakes her head sternly.

"That better not be what I think it is..."

Rolling her eyes, the brunette shakes out the garment in her hands so that the dress's full skirt falls heavily down and into shape. She holds it out to Emma who continues to frown at the plush fabric murderously before sighing and placing her hands on her hips; the cream dress crumpling against her side.

"Miss Swan, if you only _knew_ the amount of trouble I went through to get myself here so that I could bring you and your mother back for my son... I am not going to return just so that I can tell Henry that his moth- that you were simply too fatally _stubborn_ to dress according to your sex, even for _his_ sake."

"Ok, ok."

The blonde grumbles irritably and Regina smirks as she once more holds out the dress victoriously. When the younger woman simply remains huddled beneath her covers, she raises an eyebrow impatiently.

"Well?"

"Uh... I haven't done quite as much digging around in other people's wardrobes as you have..."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning could you maybe give me a little privacy? Please?"

"Ah..."

The Queen's cheeks flush delicately as she turns to place her proffered dress carefully over the stool in the corner. She moves to leave, but is surprised when she hears sheets rustle and the unmistakable sound of footsteps which hail her simply turning her back, and so remains awkwardly facing the wall with a sigh. The quiet mutterings of discomfort answer what was going to be her next question in regards to the younger woman's current level of pain, but she is encouraged to find Emma to be seemingly just as stubborn when it comes to her own body as she is with just about everything else; her low swearing pained but laced with determined irritability, as though she is simply frustrated with her body for succumbing to such a mortal weakness.

"Are you done?"

"Huh?"

Regina huffs with annoyance and turns round to regard the blonde, deciding the younger woman has had more than enough time to sort herself out, and refusing to spend a moment longer stood staring at the wall like a disgraced child.

"What the hell are you-"

"-Just to get into the shower!"

Emma explains quickly as the brunette glares angrily at the shirt and chaps she now wears from the previous day. Rolling her eyes and taking a seat on the Sheriff's recently vacated bed, the brunette offers the younger woman a shooing gesture with her hand, earning herself a similar expression of irritation.

"You're just going to sit there?"

"well I had assumed you may appreciate someone checking over your injuries before we head off into an unknown land in which there may well be no such medical aids as there are here..."

"...I can do it myself, you know..."

"Is that so, dear? With what, may I ask?"

The Sheriff searches the Queen for any signs as to where she might be harbouring the promise of disinfectant and fresh bandages, but the brunette merely continues to study her disapprovingly. Finally, with an overly dramatic sigh, the Sheriff turns heel and pads over to the door, purposefully refusing to offer Regina another glance.

* * *

As she stands beneath the cooling water, the blonde studies her feet through slitted lashes as she protects her eyes from the cascade of running water. She would be lying if she were to say she wasn't nervous in regards to their upcoming adventure, but she is also a little relieved to finally be leaving this place.

The time spent here in what was once her mother's castle has been odd; she has been treated with a peculiar silent respect, but the emotion hasn't quite seemed to reach the eyes of the guards and maids that have graced her passing company. She understands the warnings both Snow and Regina have given her in regards to the quest ahead, but she would still rather face this strange unknown than the hateful expectations of those she has seen stare at her in the palace.

In truth, Mary Margaret's stories about the Sea Witch have her more curious that they do fretting; the schoolteacher having explained to her the rueful story of the Little Mermaid, before returning from her walk around the castle to offer her a vague warning in regards to some dimwitted young woman in search of luxury and companionship from a woman seemingly even more despicable than the Queen.

_More 'despicable' than the Queen? A curious way to describe the woman who saved your life..._

She shakes her sodden curls distractedly. The last thing she needs is for her mind to get tangled up with thoughts of the brunette. Just recently, her thoughts have been returning to Regina more and more, and the ideas dancing around beneath pretty cornsilk tresses are definitely not anything she'd wish to share. Frowning beneath the chilled water, she supposes her recent interest in the darker woman may simply stem from the fact that she suddenly seems present around every corner, but she is wise enough deep down to recognize some sort of truce forming between herself and the brunette.

_We are both outsiders looking in..._

_True... But maybe it's more than that..._

"Oh, give me a break!"

Muttering irritably, the blonde finally climbs out from beneath the shower's cold spray, pulling a downy towel around her slim form tightly and raking her fingers roughly through her hair. She studies herself momentarily in the mirror; green eyes darting about her pale features critically. She is loathe to admit that her housemate may have had a point when commenting on her weight decreasing somewhat; her ribs and hipbones creating noticeable twin peaks when looking down at herself. She shrugs in frustration. She has always been slight- eating much and often but burning her fill off easily- and she decides the fragility suggested by her slim frame is simply misleading rather than telling.

Plucking at the virginally cream material of the frock brought to her by the Queen, she wrinkles her nose in disgust. She doesn't much care for dresses, and she suspects Regina, her mother, and god knows who else have their opinions as to why this might be, but in truth, she has just never been keen on receiving the sort of attention given to a woman when wearing such a piece of clothing.

Pulling the garment over her head, she shimmies her way into the offending item, before regarding herself with a critical frown in the mirror. Growling irritably, she storms out the door and into her bedroom to consult the brunette on her choice of wardrobe.

"What the hell, Regina!?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Because I think Regina would secretly love a chance to dress up Emma... Not that I'm hinting or anything ABC. Hope you enjoy, and please comment! :)

_"What the hell, Regina!?"_

The brunette glances up from inspecting her nails curiously. The Sheriff glares down at her furiously as she crosses her arms self-consciously over her chest. Painted lips pull back into a sly smirk as Regina looks the blonde up and down.

"What seems to be the problem dear?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! I look like some sort of blushing farmer's daughter in this thing! And it's goddamn see-through!"

The Queen chuckles as she plucks fussily at the thin material covering the younger woman's slender arm down to her elbow. The dress is a faded cream fashioned delicately from soft cotton, fitting the blonde's frame snugly until it fans out into a full skirt at the waist; integrated petticoats causing the material to sway grandly about her legs. Muscle and bone push pleasantly against the light fabric and the brunette eyes the telling dip of the Sheriff's navel with vague intrigue. The unbroken material which covers pale shoulders leaves her in no doubt as to why Emma covers her breasts; the soft cotton cut wide and low across her chest, allowing no inconspicuous way for the blonde to wear a bra beneath.

"Oh hush, I merely brought you the basic dress as I knew getting you to agree to _wearing_ it would be a task in itself... I was hardly prepared to have you mouthing off within earshot of my quarters. Seeing as you have actually behaved much more reasonably that I had anticipated, I would ask that you now accompany me to my bedroom in order to, ah, finish off the ensemble..."

Regina smiles pleasantly, her dark eyes glittering as she beckons the Sheriff with a crook of her finger. The glare this gesture garners her causes her to shiver slightly, and she places a hand at the younger woman's waist to steer her out the room instinctively.

She pointedly discards the peculiar thoughts that surface at the sensation of hot flesh felt through deliciously scant material as her fingers brush against the blonde's hipbone.

"Like _hell_ am I going to walk around the halls dressed like this!"

Emma pulls away irritably, her stance awkward as she continues to endeavor to cover herself up. A small grimace of pain at the motion has the brunette retracting her hand instantly; not wishing the younger woman to cause herself any discomfort.

_Not the physical sort anyway._

Rolling her eyes as though oblivious to the blonde's discreet display of pain, Regina crosses her own arms primly and regards her companion with a theatrical sigh of impatience.

"My dear, only _yesterday_ I was dragging you through the halls in your undergarments, I'm sure you will manage a short flight of stairs in a dress."

"That was... I mean... What the hell, Regina! That was completely different! And if I hadn't been somewhat preoccupied with trying to keep myself from passing out, I'd have _probably_ had slightly more of a fucking problem with it!"

Pale cheeks blush prettily as the Sheriff snarls with anger.

Pursing her lips and tapping her foot in frustration, the Queen surprises herself as well as the younger woman when she proceeds to throw her hands up into the air with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine."

Strutting moodily towards the door, the brunette huffs irritably over her shoulder in a way disconcertingly similar to that in which she berates her son when the boy decides to act like a brat.

"I have neither the patience nor the will to argue with you, Miss Swan. I will go and fetch the rest of your outfit as even this _simple_ act of compliance seems beyond your capabilities."

"Oh, shut _up_ , Regina! I'm already wearing the damn dress! I just don't want to walk around this goddamn place as good as topless! Is that so damn incomprehensible?!"

With an arrogant sweep of her arm, the Queen holds up her hand as she leaves in a gesture that silences the blonde. Ceasing her angry muttering as she proceeds down the hallway, the brunette's lips form a slow smirk at the unmistakable sound of the Sheriff's door opening and closing behind her. Slowing her strides ever so slightly, she hides her amusement as Emma falls into step beside her with a low growl of 'fine!' to rival any brooding teenager, her heavy skirts flouncing somewhat comically as she marches angrily onward.

* * *

When they reach the Queen's sleeping quarters, the darker woman holds the door silently open so as to allow the blonde to slip inside. During the course of their tense journey up to their current destination, the Sheriff's arms have remained firmly crossed over her breasts, only adding to her visible act of irritation.

All in all, it is an act the brunette finds strangely endearing.

 _Not_ that she's prepared to entertain the notion with any real consideration.

"Take a seat on the bed."

"But I thought-"

"-I will fetch you a corset in a moment, dear, but first I wish to see to your injuries."

Leading Emma over to the grand four-poster that centers the large room, the brunette doesn't allow her guest a chance to argue, but merely crowds her until she perches on plush sheets and fusses with the abundant material of her skirts. She pushes the multiple layers up to bunch at the younger woman's thighs in order to access the broken flesh at her knees.

The blonde clears her throat awkwardly, a little disconcerted to have the Queen- and subsequently the woman who has spent the past few months working to make her life a living hell- knelt between her legs. Regina glances up at her cooly, sniffing primly as she notes the rosy blush at the Sheriff's cheeks. Paying the obscurity of the situation little mind, she reaches for the small bundle of medical supplies she'd left waiting for her on the stool beside her bed and swabs bruised, skinny knees firmly with rubbing alcohol. Both women imagine there is no real need for such precautions at this stage- the abused flesh at the blonde's knees already starting to heal nicely- but the brunette feels the need to punish the younger woman for the awkwardness she has veiled over their current position.

"Hold _still_ , will you!"

Regina growls irritably, gripping the blonde's thigh firmly as the latter jerks her leg away from the harsh sting of the alcohol. She sighs inwardly; all too aware that Emma's reaction is the result of the fact that her unnecessarily rough ministrations have caused one of the lacerations to begin bleeding again. Cleaning away the thin trickle of scarlet dribbling down the blonde's shin, she presses a patch of gauze to the wound carefully. It is only then that she realizes her other hand still rests midway up the younger woman's thigh. Retracting her fingers swiftly, she primly goes about securing the dressing in place with a narrow bandage, tucking the white ends neatly into place.

"Elbow."

Dark eyes flash up to regard the Sheriff briefly as the younger woman instinctively shimmies a little to the side in a silent invitation that the brunette should take up a seat beside her. Emma seems oblivious to her uncharacteristically amiable gesture, her eyes lowered to the flimsy fabric of her dress as she rolls the sleeve up to allow access to her arm. The action has her finally lowering her prim shield from her chest and the Queen immediately scolds herself as her attention wanders slightly from the blonde's injury.

_Well if she's going to hold herself up as such a prize, it is only natural for the mind to wish to view what it has been previously forbidden._

Shaking herself firmly from her thoughts, the darker woman reverts her attention purposefully to the broken flesh at the Sheriff's elbow.

"You've done quite an impressive job here, Miss Swan."

"That's kind of you to say, but I can't take all the credit."

Emma bites her tongue belatedly, cringing as she realizes what she's said, but Regina remains expressionless as she continues to clean the damaged area methodically. Studying the darker woman pensively, the blonde's voice is quiet when she breaks the silence.

"Are you sure you're okay to go today?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

"Your mother... They're burying her tomorrow, and..."

The Sheriff trails off uncomfortably, taking heed of the brunette's previous warning in regards to privacy concerning her feelings towards her mother's passing.

It is for this reason, perhaps, that the Queen glances up at her and responds with a sigh.

"Miss Swan... I endured my share of grieving for my mother long ago... I wish for her to be laid to rest in a way that is both respectable and befitting of her stature... But this is no longer my land and these are not my people. It is not a ceremony I desire to be a part of... I've dealt with this alone, and that is the way in which I wish to continue to do so."

"Okay."

Regina's breath hitches in her throat as pale fingers find her hand momentarily; not quite holding it, but brushing over it awkwardly as though not entirely sure what their mistress wishes of them.

Almost as soon as she touches the brunette, the Sheriff's hand disappears to rest resolutely back in the lap of her skirts. The older woman clears her throat quietly and goes quickly about patching up the deep grazes at the blonde's elbow.

Rising briskly from the bed, Regina turns her back on the younger woman as she moves to her dressing table to retrieve the garment laid out over the chair. She holds it up for Emma's inspection and prepares herself for another bout of pointless argument.

"Please tell me you're kidding?"

"Not really my style, dear."

"Well I don't think I need to tell you that _that_ isn't _my_ style!"

"I would hardly count myself surprised by such knowledge, no."

Despite the blonde's bitching, she pushes herself up off the bed, regarding the stiff corset the Queen holds out warily. Regina nods in approval, fussing with the intricate lacing which holds the item together as she requests the Sheriff stand up straight and relax.

"Hold out your arms a little."

"I'm pretty sure I can put on a corset, Regina..."

"Oh really, and how many times have you practiced doing so?"

"Well... None... But, how hard can it be?"

"It is an art form- don't roll your eyes; there is a difference between incomprehension and ignorance- and with the stakes as high as they are, I suggest you give in to your stubbornness and allow me to help you."

With an ill-concealed glower, the Sheriff raises her arms a little in cooperation; blushing awkwardly as the brunette steps in front of her and slips the unforgiving fabric deftly around her back and begins to fasten the small, metal clasps into place at the front. She works upwards, starting with the hooks centered between the blonde's hips before working skilfully up her torso. She tugs the stiff fabric into place firmly, wiggling and pulling the twin panels of fabric so that they push up the younger woman's breasts purposefully. Avoiding Emma's incredulous glare, the Queen simply rolls her eyes; not prepared to argue over the correct way to fasten a corset. Happy with the way the fabric sits on the blonde's slim frame, Regina moves to stand behind her so as to work at the intricate lacing that lines the back.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the purpose of this garment is to create a pleasing silhouette, and in doing so, these laces are to be pulled tightly. I hope you're not going to prove petty when it comes to a little _discomfort_ now, dear."

Her tone is firm, bordering on patronising. She needs Emma to appropriate the ensemble convincingly, and knows the best way to assure the younger woman's cooperation in this particular matter is to goad her with the suggestion she may prove to be weak. Continuing with a careful lack of emotion, she begins to pull at the white lace of the corset forcefully, alternating between the two ties while her spare hand presses firmly against the blonde's back to keep her in place.

"However, if you should feel any _pain_ which you imagine to be due to the injury sustained to your ribs rather than simple constriction from the corset... Tell me, okay?"

"Okay."

Emma grits her teeth as the brunette yanks repeatedly at the hateful lace of the corset. The heavy material pulls against her stomach and her ribs feel as though they have been caught in a vice. Glancing down at herself distractedly, the Sheriff grumbles as she is accosted with what seems to be a ridiculously vast expanse of globed flesh, pushed up high and wanting.

"Oh good, I always wondered what I'd look like if I decided to take up hooking..."

Regina rolls her eyes, finally tying the corset into place, before slipping back round to face the blonde and inspect her properly.

_Good god but the woman has a delectable figure..._

"Not bad."

"That's it? Not _bad_? After all that, I better look fucking fantastic!"

"Let's not get carried away now, dear."

The Queen quips easily as the younger woman lets out an amiable sigh. Leading the blonde over to her vanity mirror, Regina sits her down- smirking at the way the Sheriff moves as though paralyzed from the waist up- and takes a brush to her hair.

Watching the darker woman quizzically through the mirror, Emma questions her curiously.

"Any reason _why_ I'm suddenly acting as your living doll?"

"There are certain expectations that are to be adhered to where we're going."

"... You've spent time with Ursula before, haven't you?"

"I have met her acquaintance on several occasions, yes. She was a friend of sorts of my mother's."

"... That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence..."

"Nor should it... Snow informed you of her past?"

"Yeah... I don't know... I mean, I understand where you're both coming from... But, I guess a part of me still kind of expects her to break into song..."

"Then I suggest you strive to banish such foolish fancies. The Sea Witch is not a force to be reckoned with, Miss Swan."

"I know, I know... I still don't get why I have to look like _this_ though. I mean _you're_ not wearing a fucking corset and ballgown!"

Green eyes flicker over the reflected form of the Queen; the older woman clad in a purple fringed black dress-coat and sinfully tight leather pants. Regina smirks at her through the glass, continuing to comb silken gold through her fingers.

"Unfortunately, dear, it kind of goes with your role."

"My role?"

"The Fair Queen's equally fair little daughter... You are to convey purity and innocence."

Scarlet lips flash with a wicked grin as the brunette chuckles at the thought. Emma raises an eyebrow skeptically, regarding the Queen with visible sarcasm.

"Oh sure, because the cut of this dress just _screams_ innocence..."

The darker woman's eyes flash down to the generous amount of cleavage the blonde has on display before letting out a quiet laugh as she puts away her hairbrush.

"The dress suggests, ever so coyly, that you are eligible; that you are of age."

"Of age?! What the hell does _that_ mean? I have a goddamn _child_! And coincidentally, isn't it going to prove a bit of a problem that my 'age' happens to be the same as my mother's?"

"The situation with Snow and yourself is indeed _peculiar_ , but do not forget that this is a land of magic. Stranger things have happened. No, what I meant as far as you being of age was entirely in a theatrical sense. Snow is a member of royalty, and she would be wise enough to dress accordingly. _Your_ trump card, if you will, lies within your bloodline, dear, and as such, depicting you as a fair young maiden serves to play out the little scene we wish to create... The Sea Witch should know nothing about Henry's existence, and she has always had a taste for that which is pretty and untainted..."

"...Did you just call me pretty?"

"If I did, then I also called you untainted. _Clearly_ , I was referring to how we should wish Ursula to perceive you... I myself _know_ better."

"Whatever."

The brunette tugs at the Sheriff's long curls irritably as the younger woman offers her a sly grin. Rolling her eyes and stepping away from the blonde, she inspects the latter with clinical efficiency before nodding her approval.

"I suppose you'll do. Come, let's find your mother. I imagine she's likely to assume there's some dark magic at play, so please do hasten to tell her you are clad this way _willingly_... Or, at least, that you are somewhat of sound mind. Preferably _before_ she decides to displace my head with her sword."


	13. Chapter 13

"How far away is it?"

Regina turns to face the two women sat opposite her in the carriage, fixing Snow with a brief glance before focusing her attention once more on the passing scenery.

"To the shore? At this pace it should only take us a couple more hours. We will get there before sundown."

"And then what?"

"We head out to sea."

"Wait, we just... Get in the water?"

Looking back to regard the blonde, the Queen offers her a tight smile; the younger woman finally speaking up after the past couple of hours spent sat in sullen silence. She notes the way Emma holds herself uncomfortably rigid due to her inexperience in wearing a corset, and imagines that sitting that way since noon is taking its toll on the Sheriff.

She says nothing however, sure that the blonde's lack of irritable complaint has been mostly for the schoolteacher's benefit and deciding to play along.

 _It's not that I want to do Emma a_ favor _... More that I just don't want to listen to the insufferable woman beside her coddle and fuss for the next few hours._

Nodding her head curtly, she takes an apple from her pocket and nibbles at it appreciatively as the younger women look on with visible apprehension.

"In a way, yes. We go out onto the water in a boat."

"Where do we get the boat from?"

"If we require a boat, we will be gifted with one. You're traveling with this land's Queen; both former and present, dear."

"Lucky me."

"Emma..."

The brunette watches, bemused, as the raven headed woman offers the Sheriff an expression of hurt, and wonders how it is that she herself is supposedly the one with no real interest in the blonde's wellbeing and yet she seems to be the _only_ one aware of the way Emma sips now and then from the small flask held surreptitiously to her side. Thinning her lips, she leaves her companions to their silent glowering and studies the trees as they fade past in a green haze.

 _Perhaps we should have waited a few more days before setting off... If she's in pain_ now _, what happens when the tonic is gone and we find ourselves below water at the mercy of the Sea Queen?_

Sighing, her dark eyes glimmer with the pale reflection cast up by the light dusting of snow that covers the beaten track on which they travel. Finishing off her apple, she pulls at the coarse fabric that acts as a blind and tosses the core out into the forest's undergrowth.

"What happens when we get out on the boat? How do we find Ursula?"

"There's an old trick my mother taught me. It works to illuminate the whereabouts of the Sea Kingdom. Once we're directly above it, we swim the rest of the way."

"Wait... We just trust some shiny light or whatever and abandon ship?"

"That is correct."

"And swim happily down to the bottom of the fucking _ocean_?!"

"Oh, I daresay you won't be _happy_ about it, Miss Swan."

"You think?! Because it sounds like a brilliant way to get ourselves _killed_ if you ask me!"

"Well, _fortunately_ , dear, no one _is_ asking you."

"Emma, it'll be fine, I'm not going to let anything happen to you..."

Snow's eyes flash brightly with moisture as the hand she extends to clasp the Sheriff's is batted irritably away. Studying the pale woman intently as she gives a watery sniff and stares gloomily out the window, the brunette clears her throat before rising from her seat and pulling on a chain that hangs by the door, causing the carriage to come to a halt as the galloping of the horses pulling them slows instantly. Eyeing the miserable looking schoolteacher, she opens the door to the cart with and lowers herself down onto the path; relishing the way the act allows her aching muscles a chance to stretch out.

"There is a freshwater stream that runs a little way off the path here, I suggest we fill up our supplies."

She waits with her hands on her hips as Snow climbs out the carriage with a mumbled request that Emma do the same. Rolling her eyes when the blonde proceeds to do no such thing, the Queen holds out a small canteen to the schoolteacher and suggests she go top it up with water while she checks their coordinates with the sullen looking little man that crouches atop the cart. Waiting until Snow disappears into the trees, she marches back to the entrance of the carriage and barks at the Sheriff sternly.

"Get out."

"I'm fine, I don't want any water."

"I'm not _asking_."

"Well who the hell put _you_ in charge?"

" _I_ did, when I came up with a way to get us home. Now get out of the carriage or I'll drag you out myself."

"Ok, _ok_ , shit, calm down..."

Regina takes a step back to allow the blonde to slip past her and down onto the frozen track; dark eyes flashing as the younger woman staggers slightly before finding purchase of the side of the cart.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Uh uh, 'nothing' doesn't explain why you're behaving like such a brat. You're a grown woman; act like one!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Leave me alone!"

"No."

The Sheriff glares at her irritably, but the Queen pays this little mind as she notes the pallor to the blonde's cheeks.

"Give me the flask."

"Why?"

"Oh for god's sake, woman! Because I'm _asking_ you to!"

Plucking tarnished silver from slim fingers, she is immediately aware that the vessel is all but a few sips from empty. Shaking her head as she massages her brow with her knuckles, she regards the younger woman with a sigh.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Could you just do as I say? _Please_?"

Ignoring the way the Sheriff glowers at her, she waits for the blonde to tire of her act and simply comply. Eventually, Emma rolls her eyes- the gesture undeniably half hearted- and turns to face the muddied side of the carriage. Regina stalks up behind her silently; threading her fingers swiftly through tight white laces and working deftly at the knot which holds the younger woman's corset together until it begins to yield. Working stiff fabric from side to side, she loosens the garment's hold.

"Fu-uck..."

Ther Sheriff lets out a low groan, and the brunette frowns; noting the pained hitch to the latter's breath.

"Why didn't you _say_ something!?"

"Huh?"

"I did it up too tight. Why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

"I... Well, I didn't even know you _did_. I've never worn one of these damn things, I kind of figured it was _supposed_ to be that way."

"It _is_ , but I distinctly remember telling you to let me know if it was hurting your ribs."

"I thought it'd just ease up..."

"Well, it clearly _didn't_!"

"Well, no shit!"

"Don't get snippy with _me_! _I'm_ not the idiot that's been sitting in pain for the past few hours too stubborn to _tell_ anyone!"

"I-..."

The brunette moves to stand before the Sheriff as the younger woman mutters something inaudible. Assessing her chalky complexion and downcast eyes, she raises a hand to cup her ear theatrically, her tone rich with sarcasm.

"What was that? I didn't hear you?"

"Never mind."

"No, go on, enlighten me. You what?"

"I was embarrassed! _Happy_?!"

Straightening up and regarding the blonde with open curiosity, the Queen smooths back her hair with a flick of her finger, dark eyes shimmering as they hold the Sheriff's gaze.

"Why? Why would the fact that wearing a tight corset caused your ribs to ache after what was by all accounts a pretty horrendous injury _embarrass_ you?"

When her question is met with uneasy silence she sighs, handing the younger woman back her flask; her fingers brushing momentarily against Emma's.

"Your pride will be your undoing if you're not careful, Miss Swan. That was all the Tonic that we brought with us... I only hope you're not about to learn a decidedly painful lesson."

She expects the Sheriff to quip back at her irritably. Something along the lines of 'like you wouldn't just love that'. She can even picture the intoxicating rage dancing in the blonde's eyes when saying it.

_Inexplicably exciting..._

Instead, Emma just sighs, glancing down at the flask in her hand before regarding the older woman warily.

"I probably deserve to... Look, I know I'm acting like a bitch, and I'm sorry. Really. I just... I'm not _good_ with shit like this."

"...You're not good at dealing with pain, while the prospect of entering an underwater world overseen by a woman about which you have received grave warning- incidentally from the lips of a woman of whom you are already understandably wary- looms ever nearer? Well, dear, I suppose such apprehensions _could_ be understood."

"Well when you put it that way..."

The brunette rolls her eyes as the Sheriff cracks a tentative grin, refusing to allow any in-depth thought as to the fact that she and Emma seem currently to be more on the same level than the blonde and her own damn mother.

"I suggest you go and dilute the rest of that tonic with water, Miss Swan... And a word of advice: Don't allow stubbornness to masquerade as pride. One is much more attractive than the other."


	14. Chapter 14

By the time they near the shore, the sky has taken on a scarlet hue as the sun sets bloodily over the horizon. The blonde watches the Queen silently as the curious glow plays patterns across pretty, defined features. She remains rigidly still, Mary Margaret sleeping soundly with her head rested on her shoulder after accepting a brief, apologetic squeeze of her hand upon reentering the carriage. Finally giving in to the gnawing cramp from her unyielding position, the Sheriff gently moves so that her right arm encircles her housemate's shoulders; Snow's eyelashes fluttering a little before she resumes her quiet slumber pressed against the blonde.

"Have you ever actually been down to the Underwater Kingdom or whatever you called it?"

Regina glances up, graciously hiding the smirk that threatens to touch her lips as she takes in the younger woman's new position, and nods, keeping her voice low to match Emma's when she speaks.

"Once, yes. My mother and father were invited down for a soiree when I was very young."

"How did you... Like, how do you _breathe_ down there? Do we need some kind of scuba stuff?"

The brunette smiles, wondering just what sort of reaction the Sheriff would garner should she go out requesting such a thing in this land. Her expression remains uncharacteristically soft however; acutely aware of the detectable note of panic in the younger woman's voice.

"No, dear. I'm afraid I remember very little, I would have only been about six when I went down there, but I know that there is air in the actual kingdom, much like the air up here. The land exists under a dome created and protected by what is pretty much a Royal Guard. Inside the dome things are in many ways much the same as on land."

"Oh... A-Are you a strong swimmer?"

"... Are you not?"

"I can swim... But it's been a good few years since I have done..."

"Well, your dress will do some of the work for you; it will weigh you down and pull you under."

Regina sighs at the visible panic that flashes across the blonde's pale features, shaking her head as she continues.

"That is a _good_ thing, Miss Swan. The sooner you find yourself reaching the barrier, the sooner you will be able to breathe."

"What is this 'barrier'? How do we get through it?"

"We will be granted passage."

"What if we don't? What if we get down there and she won't let us in? We'll... Well, we'll _drown_ , won't we?"

"...That is unlikely to happen, dear. You see, Ursula's greatest flaw is her curiosity. She won't allow such an unusual opportunity to pass her by. When we make our way over the kingdom by boat, she will be alerted to our presence via the spell I will cast to make her land visible. She will let us pass the border. After that, I simply can't say, but she won't leave us out there to drown."

The brunette offers the Sheriff a tight smile as the latter nods uneasily. Returning her attention back to their passing surroundings, she is surprised when Emma interrupts her once more; having thought the blonde would rather remain silent than risk having her fearfulness displayed quite so openly.

_Well, this isn't a simple fear of the dark or spiders. The woman believes- and understandably so- that she's a few hours away from drowning._

"Sorry?"

"I just think it's weird is all."

"What is?"

"Well, that there's air at _all_ down there. Can't mermaids breathe underwater? I mean, they _live_ there... Makes sense?"

"They can."

"Then why live in a dome free of water? How do they even swim?"

"They do not. Contrary to what Disney would have you believe, a mermaid is a creature of multiple forms. She exists in the water in the shape you probably associate with the species- the torso and head of a woman, but with the tail of a fish- but she will take on a human form once inside her kingdom. I believe various aspects of the anatomy are a little different, for instance, I seem to remember them still possessing gills even in their human state, but visually, they are very similar to you or I."

"Wait... So they can grow legs? But I thought Ariel-"

"-Ariel wanted to live up on land. Such a thing is impossible. Or, at least, it _should_ be."

"So they can't just grow legs and get out the water?"

"No, dear, the only way they are able to exist at _all_ in their kingdom without water is due to the powerful magic cast upon the realm by the Sea Queen herself. I have heard rumors, interestingly, that a great many of the land's patrons still sleep within a water-filled chamber, despite the enchantment, for comfort."

"But why bother, then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like, why not just fill the realm with water if that's how they breathe?"

"I believe parts of it _are_ in fact underwater. However, humans can't breathe underwater, regardless of whether or not they become enchanted."

"So... Humans often travel down there? I kind of thought we were doing something _crazy_ the way you two made it sound... I-"

"-Oh, for us to be actively searching out the kingdom out _is_ , as you put it, 'crazy'; it is a place that those with any other option would strive to avoid, but humans do come in contact with the merfolk down there... Just not by choice."

"... It's a little deep down to be accidentally stumbling across a hidden sea-village, no?"

"True, the Kingdom exists several fathoms underwater. No, the poor, unfortunate souls that wind up at the merfolk's mercy will be fishermen for the most part. They will be hijacked and brought down into the kingdom to suffer a slow death; an exhibition of their passing if you will... A great deal of bad blood still exists between the mermaids and those from the land- particularly humans, as is always the way- and they are not a species that find it easy to forget."

"Forget what?"

"Years ago, and I mean long before even my parents were born, before the Underwater Kingdom existed and the merfolk simply inhabited the sea, they were often hunted down for sport. Kind of like shark baiting, I suppose. Their tails hold within them a rare oil, you see, which was highly sought after by alchemists and those who practice magic alike. There was a purpose to it, in the wish to obtain the oil, but there was also a simple cruelty to the act. I believe in Henry's history books it was what you would call a genocide."

"...Shit."

"So you see, the merfolk do not take kindly to us from the land."

"Fantastic..."

The brunette purses her lips as the Sheriff rolls her eyes, before rising abruptly to pull at the chain that hangs by the carriage's door.

"We're here."

Emma leans forward to peer out the window, subsequently disturbing her housemate's slumber; the latter blinking in confusion as she pushes herself up from the blonde's warm comfort.

"What's happening?"

"We're here... Apparently."

The Queen glances over at the Sheriff with an ill-hidden smirk; the rueful sarcasm dripping from the younger woman's tongue beautifully familiar, if a little bemusing.

"This is not a dock like back home, Miss Swan. Our ports are for setting off on and returning from voyages only; there is little business to be peddled out at sea,"

She gathers her heavy coat about her and slips easily from the carriage as it draws to a smooth stop, beckoning at the others to follow her out onto the dusky sand. Once all three women stand out on the deserted beach, the Queen slaps one of the cart's horses on the rear and the carriage takes off into the distance. She smirks silently at the horrified look that graces the blonde's pale features as she watches their means of transport disappear over the dunes.

"What... What now?"

"We send Snow off down there to request a ship."

She points to a small wooden building just visible about half a mile down a rocky path. The schoolteacher frowns irritably, while Emma shakes her head in pure refusal.

"No way, we stick together. If Mary Margaret goes down there, I'm going with her."

"I don't think that's wise, dear."

"She's not going out there _alone_! What even _is_ that place?"

"Emma... It's fine."

The look that graces the paler woman's face suggests she's having a hard time believing her own words however, but she cant deny the sensation of warmth that alights in her chest as the blonde moves to stand protectively in front of her.

"It is _not_ fine! We-"

"-Miss Swan, may I remind you that you are a _stranger_ here. Snow goes alone as it is _she_ that holds the most power amongst the three of us. If we all go, we risk drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves- it may not _surprise_ you to learn that I am hardly what you would call _popular_ around these parts- and if you tag on after her, we risk you opening that unruly mouth of yours. Snow will go down to the fisherman's tavern as this land's royalty and demand a ship. A small vessel will do just fine, so long as it runs in such a way that we are able to captain it. Something with an engine of sorts would be preferable, Miss Blanchard, given as I doubt the young princess here is up to much rowing."

She points at Emma who scowls murderously at the title. Snow nods compliantly, knowing the land well enough to appease her mind that it is unlikely danger might befall her. Regina has spoken correctly; it is the brunette who the land's people seek a chance to punish, not the Fair Queen. Pulling Emma to her gently- amiably ignoring the irritable grumbling the gesture garners her- she embraces the blonde tightly before stepping back to study her sternly.

"Stay with Regina. I'll back in a short while."

"This is _bullshit_! Come on, I won't even open my goddamn mouth! Please! I don't want you going off alone!"

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret turns away, but not before offering the brunette a warning glance that the latter finds incredibly loathsome.

 _Really?_ Still _? Still with the 'don't you go hurting my baby' stare? If I'd wanted to harm the woman, I would have had her writhing and begging on the floor by now!_

"Stay here!"

Regina barks at the blonde; feeling a little as though she is speaking to an ill-behaved dog. Emma throws her a dirty look that suggests she feels much the same.

"You're sure she's ok going down there on her own? If it's a tavern kind of place, won't there be a bunch of drunken men lurking around? I don't like this..."

Sighing, the Queen shakes her head as she joins the younger woman in watching Snow's pale figure retreat down the rocky path.

"Things don't work quite the same way here, dear. She is far too well regarded for any she comes across to stand for her being accosted in such a way... _You_ , well, the same rule doesn't apply. Despite the legend of the curse and that of the Savior, I'm afraid you are somewhat glorified as an infant rather than the woman you are... And with the way you're currently dressed, I would rather you didn't go down there. _Me_ , well, I don't think anyone would be all to happy to see me around here."

"But in the castle-"

"-In the castle things are different. That is what you could call my 'home turf'. Yes, it now belongs once more to your mother, but so long as she allowed me to walk its halls freely, I was still regarded with some sort of respect. Out here... Let's just say I am comforted in the knowledge that the lack of my power has not been noticed."

"You still can't use magic properly?"

Regina regards the blonde levelly, her hair whipping about her face as she narrows her eyes against the frigid chill of the sea air. The look on the younger woman's face is one of simple curiosity, and the Mayor wonders if this is what it would have been like had she had the chance to explain things to Henry.

"I can... But it's weaker than it once was..."

"How come?"

"I'm unsure... I suppose it could be simple lack of use. Or perhaps being in your world dampened it somehow... I am able to perform simple spells, as I did when healing you and as I will when we get out onto the water... But I am having trouble commanding large surges the way I used to..."

"I guess you just need to fall back into it or something."

The blonde states simply, shrugging companionably as she squints against a particularly brutal gust of wind. Watching as the Mayor shivers visibly, she moves on instinct- thinking nothing of it- so that she acts as a shield against the harsh wind; her long hair whipping about wildly as the sea crashes down below. Her change of position is not lost on the brunette however, and she regards the younger woman curiously as the latter stares down into the hellish waves.

"How's the pain?"

"Better now that the corset's looser... Thanks."

"What about when you move your arms? Will you be able to swim?"

"I'll be able to _sink_..."

The blonde smirks jovially; her sarcasm an obvious mask for her fear but the darker woman allows her this small charade, chuckling lightly.

"I'm sure you'll manage."

"Does it look okay, though?"

The brunette blinks in surprise, her eyes flickering over the Sheriff's svelte form a little distractedly; thrown off by the question. Before she can summon a catty remark to hide her awkwardness, Emma elaborates on her question.

"There's no point me wearing all this shit if it's not convincing, right?"

"...Right. No, dear, you look fine. Lucky for you, you're naturally slim; we don't need to orchestrate putting lipstick on a pig."

The blonde laughs at this analogy huskily, her good humor making her look much younger when coupled with the lack of harsh liner to her eyes. Smiling herself, the Queen pushes back her wind mussed hair, the eery glow of the setting sun painting them both scarlet.

"I'm nervous.

The younger woman's words are abrupt- sudden- and from the blush that colors her cheeks, the brunette wonders if she'd meant to admit such a thing out loud. Regarding the blonde thoughtfully, she nods before averting her gaze to the jagged rock that lines the shore.

"I would think you foolish if you weren't..."

"Are you?"

"A little, yes."

_A lot. A whole lot. You have no idea, my dear..._

"Come, there goes your mother down towards the shore. Let's hope she was successful."


	15. Chapter 15

The vessel the Fair Queen has managed to procure for them is an understated fisherman's boat, small and rather worse for wear, but with one crucial advantage; fitted to the rear is a crudely simple steam-powered motor which now works fitfully to propel them through the water. With the last streaks of red from the setting sun staining the sky, the three women find themselves predominantly shrouded in darkness, and this peculiar lack of light plays eery shadow across their faces; eyes appearing deep and sunken, cheekbones emaciated and mouths drawn as their flesh is painted a ghastly scarlet.

"We're really doing this..."

Snow's voice is low, and if she had meant to keep the panic from her tone she hasn't succeeded. Her eyes glimmer frightfully in the darkness as she watches the shore disappear over the horizon with a sickly shiver, and when Emma moves to sit beside her she grabs the blonde's hand desperately and is relieved when the younger woman doesn't pull her fingers away.

"Yes, we're really doing this."

Regina states quietly, her hair held back from the sea-wind's wrath by a silken scarf that had originally been looped about her waist. She sits at the front of the small boat, her eyes cast to the vast emptiness of the sea rather than towards the land they have left and she wonders silently if she is being a fool allowing the two younger women to come with her.

She needs them- that much is true- for Henry, but she is aware that in bringing them down to the Underwater Kingdom she may be putting herself at a greater risk. Her words to Snow have been optimistic at best, and now, as they find themselves sailing away from any other option, she can't help but think that she may be fatally mistaken in presuming Ursula will have any interest in the raven headed woman's stature. If this is the case, there is a good chance she's leading the other two down to their slaughter.

Swallowing, she wonders if the Sea Witch knows about her mother's passing.

"How far out do you think we need to go?"

Emma's question pulls her from her thoughts and she turns to face the blonde distractedly. Dark eyes boring into the younger woman as the pale moon rises above them, she finds herself momentarily transfixed by the Sheriff. The eery moonlight casts the blonde's hair and eyes silver and the grazes and bruises that have yet to fade from her pale face are accentuated with a somehow cruel beauty.

_Not Delphine, no, but I fear your mother may have been right, dear. If Ursula is to play any of us, I believe it will be you, and for that, I am sorry, I truly am, but I need to get home to my son. If my choice lies between your life and Henry... Well, there's no point even thinking on such things._

"A while farther still. You see how the sky is tinged with amber? It's very subtle, but that's light pollution. You can't see the lights themselves but while that glow still exists we can rest assured we are too close to the land yet. When the sky is clear and the only light comes from the moon, we should begin our search."

"Okay... The way you talk over here is so funny..."

"How so?"

Regina sniffs and the Sheriff grins as she catches a definite hint of offense in the brunette's words. Shrugging, she elaborates pleasantly.

"Just because you know a lot about all this stuff and it's all so crazy to me. You're speaking about magic and Kingdoms like it's the most normal thing in the world, which I guess it _is_ to you... I don't know... I quite like it... I feel like you're telling me a bedtime story."

The blonde laughs lightly as Snow frowns beside her. Raising an eyebrow, the Queen lets out her own throaty chuckle and shakes her head.

"You are easily impressed, Miss Swan."

"Oh, I never said I was _impressed,_ Your Majesty"

Regina rolls her eyes at the impish flicker of tongue the Sheriff offers her and pulls the scarf that covers her hair back into place. She watches as Emma's long curls whip chaotically behind her, dark eyes drinking in liquid silver.

"Well, when we reach our destination, I wonder if you will still find yourself so amused, dear... Whether or not you do, I will take this time to remind you that you are to keep such things to yourself. You don't speak unless I prompt you to do so, understand?"

The blonde glowers at her, but keeps her mouth shut, which the Queen takes as a silent form of agreement. She glances at Snow who nods slowly, accepting that the same rule will apply to her, before resuming her study of the tar black sea.

Her absence from the realm has her wondering on what dangers they may face before they even _reach_ the dreaded Sea Kingdom. To her knowledge, the open water remains free from any other threats of a magical nature; sirens and nymphs preferring freshwater. She is unsure however, whether they should be fearful of more natural predators; sharks, squid, whales and who knows what else not really being something she knows a lot about.

_I know I don't wish to cross paths with such vermin..._

Discarding such thoughts as something she simply can't do anything about, she glances up at the ink-black sky and clears her throat.

"This is probably far enough..."

She glances back at the two younger women who regard her silently and she finds herself suddenly absurdly stage shy. She is unwilling to allow the possibility that they will have come this far for her power to betray her now. Fussing with her coat primly, she purses her lips and closes her eyes. Channeling her thoughts, she murmurs the incantation learnt from her mother quietly beneath her breath and shudders as she feels a great, familiar warmth sweep over her.

"Holy _shit_!"

Opening her eyes, she looks up at the blonde irritably, frowning when she notes the way the younger woman sits bathed in an eery green light. Glancing at Snow, she finds it is not just Emma, but the whole boat that has become illuminated, and when she casts her gaze over the side of the ship, she takes in a sharp breath as she is met with a dazzling light glittering sporadically off shallow waves.

"It worked."

Snow breathes quietly, and any irritation the brunette would usually have towards the raven headed woman's obvious doubt in her abilities is forgotten as the reality of their situation finally sinks all the way in.

"We'll travel a little further that way, over to where the light is brightest..."

"...And then we... We get in?"

The Sheriff asks nervously and the Queen regards her with a rather lackluster expression of authority and simply nods.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Emma makes her way to the back of the boat and the brunette cringes a little at the pained set of the blonde's jaw as she moves. Reaching for the rudder, the Sheriff coaxes the boat to veer a little to the left and waits for the the command that she should shut off the engine.

"That's enough."

They wait tensely as the quiet putting of the engine dies and cloaks them in silence. Remaining this way for several minutes, it is Snow who speaks up shakily and rallies them together.

"Right... So... I guess this is it."

"Yeah."

"I believe so."

Looking over to the brunette fearfully, the schoolteacher swallows as she moves clumsily over to the side of the boat to stand next to Emma. Regina clears her throat quietly.

"You understand how this works? The light will shine brightest at the point of passage, that is where you must aim for. It will be deep, and it won't be easy, but it is a _possible_ journey and you _must_ remember that. Don't panic. If you panic, you'll tire yourself out, and you'll need all the energy you can muster... And one more thing: You are your own first priority, do you understand? You take care of yourself and trust that the rest of us will do the same. No foolish heroics."

She regards the paler women sternly as they nod in unison. Giving her own curt nod, she moves to the edge of the boat.

Snow swallows nervously and turns to the Sheriff, taking a hold of her hands and pulling her close. Sinking in to the blonde's firm embrace, she wraps her own arms around the younger woman's waist and speaks shakily into her hair.

"It's going to be okay, Emma, it's going to be okay. We'll be fine, I promise. I... Just swim okay? Just swim and I'll be right by you, and it'll all be okay. It'll all be fine. I promise. I promise. You'll be fine. Please."

She sniffs as the blonde chuckles lightly in her ear and squeezes her firmly before stepping away.

"Sounds like it's _yourself_ you need to be giving that little pep talk to."

Mary Margaret shakes her head, and reaches out to stroke at the Sheriff's arm.

"I love you, okay?"

"... Yeah. I love you, too."

The schoolteacher nods, before pulling herself up onto the side of the boat and balancing hesitantly over the water. Regina looks away; uncomfortable at the display put on by the younger women, but she glances up curiously when slim fingers brush at her side. Regarding Emma levelly, she allows herself a small smile to mimic the blonde's.

"See you down there, yeah?"

"Indeed you will, dear."

"You guys want to do this on three?"

The brunette rolls her eyes, but shrugs in agreement, stepping gracefully up onto the side of the boat to stand beside the others. She watches out the corner of her eye as Snow takes a hold of the Sheriff's hand, and wonders momentarily if Emma will offer her the other, but she is saved the anguish of deciding whether or not to accept such a gesture when the blonde does no such thing.

"E-everybody ready?"

Nods from either side.

"Okay... One.. Two... Three!"

They close their eyes tightly, and for each there is a moment's pure fright before adrenalin kicks in and they take the plunge, and as they jump fearfully into the cruel ice of the sea, the Queen takes in a gasp of surprise as a pale hand finds hers after all and they plummet into the murky darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

At first, all that enters the brunette's mind is how horrifically _cold_ the water which smothers her is. She attempts to keep her eyes open, but the salted current carries with it a hateful sting and she squeezes her lashes protectively shut while curious bubbles escape her lips in a chaotic stream.

_Oh dear god, what was I thinking?_

She pulls herself together sternly, giving a firm tug on the slender fingers entwined with her own as she begins her descent; pushing herself through the water so that she swims towards the seabed.

Despite having her eyes closed, she is crucially aware of a frantic torrent to her right as the blonde thrashes and kicks fretfully, and she pulls on the younger woman's hand once more, pointedly, before letting go and swimming in earnest.

She is unable to discern whether the other two follow behind her, but she is forced to simply trust that both younger women will have the good sense- or, at the very least, the _survival instinct_ \- to make for the curious depths of the ocean. Such faith lasts only so long however, and as her lungs begin to burn with a hateful lack of oxygen, she has a hard time coaxing her mind into staying blank; the irritable organ seemingly hellbent on flashing her images of her son's face should she be required to inform him of the blonde's death at sea.

_Oh, stop with such nonsense! She and her idiot mother are right behind you._

_You hope..._

_Enough!_

A little way above the fretting Queen, Emma snarls irritably, swallowing a mouthful of seawater as she struggles to free her hand from Snow's white-knuckled grip. The raven-headed woman mistakes her daughter's thrashing for distress and tightens her hold on the blonde's fingers possessively, until the latter gives her a hard shove and wrenches herself free. Somewhere within the back of her mind, Emma feels a pang of guilt at the action, but now is not the time for niceties, as with the schoolteacher hindering her good arm, she doesn't think _either_ of them will stand much of a chance. Reaching blindly for any one of Snow's flailing limbs, she captures her wrist clumsily and gives it a meaningful pull before wrestling with the sodden mass of her skirts in an attempt to turn herself around so that she can swim downwards.

Slitting her eyes open against the sting of the waves, the Sheriff kicks out towards the blinding green glow that shimmers from what seems like _impossibly_ far away. She berates herself angrily for spluttering on the dank water so soon, her lungs uncomfortably tight and her blood thrumming in her ears. Catching a glimpse of a paper pale hand darting in and out of her peripheral vision as Snow swims along side her, she tries to speed up her own amateur strokes in an attempt to catch up with the brunette, fearful that the darker woman will slip from sight.

As she feels her chest begin to ache and bright spots begin sparkling dizzyingly behind closed lids, Regina chances a quick peek through thick lashes in the desperate hope that she will be graced with a sign of land. That she will see anything at all! _Anything,_ but the endless cloying water and that sickening green glow.

Mercifully, her wish is granted.

The eery green light which has beckoned them thus far appears slightly diffracted a little ahead of her, and she senses rather than sees the cause of this to be the elusive dome which shrouds the Kingdom. Their proximity to salvation gives her hope, and she begins to kick out with greater purpose, closing her eyes and bracing herself as she reaches the source of the light.

* * *

There is little dignity in the way she stumbles on her feet, but the brunette holds a mild sense of pride that she has managed to stay standing at _all_. She peers about herself cautiously, dark eyes flickering from one pale being to the next. The crowd that studies her is silent- strangely morose- as a thousand eyes crawl over her soaked form hungrily. Thinning her lips to form a determined line, she pulls herself up to her full height and offers those closest to her a glare of confidence as freshets of salted water stream from her blackened locks down her aristocratically high cheekbones to glisten wetly at her sternum.

She turns back towards the transparent shield with a frown, searching the murky shadows for any sign of her curious companions, but with the light being emitted from the side of the dome in which she resides, the ocean is cast into darkness. She tells herself that time only _seems_ to be ticking by so terribly slowly because she wants it to do the reverse, but as she counts the steady patter of droplets falling from her hair onto her flesh, she becomes increasingly concerned by the stillness around her.

Glancing from one armed guard to another as the towering mermen stand with their backs to her- tridents raised- guarding the city, she swallows with uncharacteristic nervousness.

 _They should be here by now. They're taking too long... They should_ be _here by now!_

Just as these hateful thoughts threaten to block out all sanity entirely, the curious surface of the dome breaks open to release a torrent of salted waves on which the younger two women are deposited unceremoniously to form a heap of tangled limbs on the ground.

The silence is broken by the blonde's fitful coughing as she struggles to free herself from beneath the limp form of her mother. Green eyes wide and red, she shakes the schoolteacher frantically, her voice obscenely loud over the stillness of the crowd as she croaks the paler woman's name over and over.

"Mary Margaret! _Mary Margaret!_ Come on, damn it! Get up! _Please!_ "

More coughing as Snow rolls onto her side and weakly expels a mouthful of water, before the schoolteacher finds the blonde's crouched form with panicked hands and pulls her close. The Sheriff lets out a sharp hiss as Mary Margaret claws unintentionally at her recently injured hip, but welcomes the embrace thankfully- running a shaking hand fretfully through the older woman's short locks- before slowly raising her head to observe her surroundings with a comically dropped jaw.

"Holy shit..."

Regina begins to move to join the others, but stills as a revered sigh echoes amongst their eery bystanders. The crowd parts in strange unison as, from the depths of the pale, sinewy bodies, a low laugh echoes jarringly.

"Well, well, well... What do we have _here,_ then?"

The woman that stalks into view is large; reminiscent of the beauties depicted by Ruben in her generous stature. Extravagant silver adorns her thick limbs lovingly; specked with amethysts and rubies. She wears a black dress cut sinfully low over her impressive bosom and little else. Dusky purple hoods her dark eyes heavily from within a powdery canvas of foundation, blusher and painfully red lipstick.

"Regina, dear... Is that you?"

The brunette offers the squat woman a forced smile, bowing her head although the act doesn't come to her naturally.

"You look positively _dreadful!"_

Thick fingers find her dark hair fussily- the sea woman's skin smelling ever so faintly of fish- as the Sea Queen brushes aside damp tresses. Offering a simpering smile of her own, Ursula turns to regard the younger women who remain clustered together uncertainly, sporting twin sets of fearful green; one set wide, one set narrowed untrustingly.

"And what is _this_?"

The blonde opens her mouth to growl that she is a 'who' not a 'what' but bites her tongue with begrudged obedience as she receives a piercing flash of warning from the Mayor's dark eyes. Scowling irritably, she merely glares down at her feet as Regina takes the lead and moves to stand beside her.

"This is-"

"-Snow White..."

Plump lips curl up to form a sneer as the Sea Queen's glittering eyes fall upon the school teacher. The woman in question nods curtly, assuming her own falsely confident stance as she returns Ursula's gaze.

"Your Majesty..."

Snow's voice is quiet- purposefully respectful- and the large woman laughs richly as though the Fair Queen has just shared a particularly amusing joke. Dark eyes falling upon the blonde, she ceases with her self-indulgent display of mirth and smiles wickedly.

"Which would make _you_...?"

"This is Snow's daughter... Emma."

"Emma..."

The Sheriff regards the heavy-set woman before her cooly, resisting the urge to shrink back as a jewel encrusted hand skims teasingly up the pale flesh of her arm, but unable to help the goosebumps that arise at this unwelcome touch.

"And what, pray tell... Are you three doing _trespassing_ within my realm!?"

A hardness finds the Sea Queen's voice, and the brunette blinks in confusion as a flurry of silver obscures her vision from both sides and slick bodies glide past her with liquid speed. By the time she manages to grasp what's going on, the other two stand rigidly still with crude blades held warningly to pale throats.

"What evil befell your mother, child? What scum have you brought to walk upon my shores?"

Ursula hisses dangerously as she moves in on the brunette, finding Regina's hands with her own, but the gesture is anything but soothing.

"What _business_ do you have with Snow White?"

And, just like that, the Mayor is all of a sudden crucially aware that her next few words- any action she takes in the next few seconds- may well be of fatal consequence. Her worries appear founded; Ursula spares Snow's stature no concern, and as such, they now find themselves in the presence of a woman who would bare no qualms in slaughtering the fairer two where they stand. Mind racing fretfully, she glances at the schoolteacher just once before adopting her own sneer to mirror the Sea Queen's.

" _Business_ is a rather grandiose way of putting it. For too long now the cunning little snake has worked to best me. But, rest assured; my mother will not have fallen in vain... I plan on dealing her my own form of retribution... But to do so... I am in need of your assistance-"

She carries on hurriedly as both Snow and Emma threaten to rain a storm of incredulity upon her; clinging on to the hope that neither woman is as mind-numbingly _stupid_ as she fears.

"-But that is a topic for discussion between _royalty_... I beg for your ear on the matter, Your Majesty."

Ursula regards her expressionlessly, and for a second, the brunette fears that her act lacks substance, but then a talon-like nail points towards the castle that waits in the background and the men that flank Snow proceed to move her along without a word. Glaring pointedly at the blonde whose teeth are bared in animalistic fury, Regina raises her voice and injects her patent blend of silky confidence swiftly.

"She is not to be touched, her fate lies with me... Is that understood?"

She cringes inwardly at the delicate tinge of nervousness that cloaks her final words, but Ursula seems not to notice and merely laughs, fussing with her overly teased hair primly as she assures the brunette that her men will take heed of her wishes. It is for this same reason however, that she imagines Emma negates to vocalize her anger; the subtle inflection to her tone may have been lost on the Sea Queen, but not on the blonde.

Just as she can read the Sheriff with curious ease, Emma seems to know her eerily well.

"And what of the girl? Why keep _her_?"

Regina watches with a careful lack of expression as Ursula slithers over to the blonde, her hooded eyes glittering as her mouth forms a slow smile. Large hands cup the younger woman's face with cruel tenderness as the Sea Queen's tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes in the fading marks that grace pale features. Catching the flash of repulsion that swims within fearful green eyes, and the terrible hunger that finds Ursula's own dark orbs, the brunette speaks up harshly; her tone stern as she strives to keep her hands from shaking.

"What better way to crush the Fair Queen than to take ownership of her daughter?"

"Ownership?"

The question within the Sea Witch's rich tone is mirrored in Emma's eyes as the blonde blinks at her stupidly; her face a picture of incomprehension. Chancing a purposeful glance at the Sheriff, Regina takes a step closer so that she stands pointedly between the blonde and the older woman, her eyes hard as they find Ursula's.

"Indeed. For what greater indignity than for a princess to become a simple pawn within the game of her enemy's fancies?"

Her tone takes on a curious lilt as she finishes her question and a look of realisation graces the Sea Queen's features as she adopts a coy smirk.

"The girl is your _prize_... What fun!"

Better late than never, the meaning behind the ambiguous words being shared between the two older woman finally dawns on the Sheriff and she opens her mouth to express her incredulity at the situation as she shakes her head adamantly.

"Hey, wait, what the _hell?!_ You-"

"-Silence."

Regina spares her not even a glance, but merely holds up her palm with an irritable sniff. This response garners yet more perplexed anger from the blonde, and when Emma gives in to her stubbornness rather than continuing to heed the brunette's warnings- pushing the Queen's hand away furiously- Regina acts on instinct alone.

She will later muse that such spite may well have saved the younger woman's sorry life.

As Ursula's brow furrows upon taking in the ludicrous insubordination displayed by the blonde, the Mayor wills an unseen tremor of power towards the Sheriff. As she had told Emma before setting off, her brand of magic is useless against the merfolk, but when used against the blonde, it works just fine.

Just fine indeed.

Her eyes barely flicker as the younger woman lets out a pained cry and falls to her knees at her side; her hand shooting to her injured ribs as the brunette immediately ceases the constricting force she had trained towards the Sheriff. Glancing down at Emma with carefully hidden concern, she looks away swiftly as shocked, watering eyes find her own. Adopting an air of disdain, she places a hand possessively on the younger woman's shoulder to keep her down where she kneels; her tone harsh and cold.

"You will do as you're told, or you will suffer the consequences."

Regarding the grinning Sea Queen cooly, she allows her fingers to disappear beneath the sodden locks that tumble over the blonde's skinny shoulders. She dares to move them only slightly- gently stroking the soft skin at the nape of the Sheriff's neck- hoping such subtlety will leave the action undetected. If Emma mistakes the gesture as one of ill-will, she supposes it will just have to be so, but she notes a very slight change to the younger woman's posture; her shoulders dropping from their self-protective hunch just a little beneath the Queen's discreet attempt of comfort.

 _I'm on_ your _side remember. Now shut that unruly mouth of yours before you make me have to do something like that again... Please._

"As you can see... The girl is having a little trouble being broken in..."

"Growing pains. Always the way unfortunately, dear... Still... She is a curious young thing; more reminiscent of fighting stock than one bred within that family of imbeciles by looks alone. She will learn though, dear, with a firm hand, I have no doubt. They always do."

Regina offers the Sea Queen a debauched smirk as she rests her fingers lightly- warningly- back on Emma's shoulder; willing the younger woman to just take her share- however unjust- of humiliation and remain silent.

 _All we need is for her to buy this little charade for the time it takes me to make our request... If believing Snow to be disgraced and you to be my... My trophy... Is what it takes, then please just play along. If you force me to hurt you, I am hurting Henry also... So, please..._ Please _just keep quiet and let me handle this._

Holding her breath as the tension sits tangibly between them, the brunette studies the older woman intently as Ursula runs a pensive finger over her lips as she smirks down at the blonde who keeps her head dutifully bowed. Finally, the Sea Queen speaks.

"Very well, it would seem you and I have matters to discuss. You will accompany me to the castle as a guest. They will see to your girl."

She points vaguely in the direction of a couple of silent guards who move forwards upon her request and flank the Sheriff. Offering Emma a fearful glance, the brunette looks back up at the Sea Witch, but the older woman is already making her way grandly through the eery crowd. Addressing the men sternly, she speaks quietly, but with great warning.

"The girl is mine, and I want her kept in _exactly_ the same condition as I found her..."

They regard her without word- without expression- and she bites her lip as Emma peeks up at her from beneath her hair with terrified eyes. Jumping as the deep melody of Ursula's voice pulls her from her thoughts, she looks up quickly and pulls herself together, moving to follow the older woman up the path.

"Oh, Regina, worry not, they're simply to take her to the servant's quarters; we can hardly have _her_ join us for dinner now, can we? Now come. I have so many questions I'm just _dying_ to ask you..."


	17. Chapter 17

They make their way up the stone steps to the castle in silence; Regina following the Sea Queen with careful grace as she tries to collect her thoughts and ease her mind. She is relieved that her claims in regards to Snow and the blonde have been received without question, but she is shaken by the fact that both women have been taken away to wait in whatever foreign and mysterious place they now reside. She hides a frown as she inwardly accepts that she had been hoping the schoolteacher may have been able to help her out in this charade; refusing to gift Snow with the compliment of being exceptionally smart, but fair enough to grant that the younger woman possesses her own fair share of cunning.

She can't help but see an _upside_ to Emma's absence however; a little relieved not to have to watch the younger woman like a hawk lest she take it upon herself to make any number of snide remarks sure to raise suspicion.

Glancing up at Ursula as the Sea Witch leads them on into a grand hall, she shivers. She had been correct in her description to the Sheriff of the merpeople's human guise differing from their own; the large woman that walks before her possessing all the limbs and proportions of a mortal being, but the distasteful sway and glimmer of an eel.

"Do come along, darling, I don't have all day."

The brunette quickens her pace a little, falling in step beside the Witch and clenching her teeth as thick, jewel encrusted fingers brush against her waist. She raises an eyebrow as they pass a large table at which a number of high-backed chairs sit like shadowed sentinels in the corner; imagining such a place would play the perfect stage for whatever conversation she and Ursula are destined to have.

As it is, they continue on, until the Sea Queen brings them to a halt outside a curiously ornate set of doors.

"After you."

Regina complies silently, slipping through the doors with the Witch's breath hot on her neck. The room she finds herself in is laced with shadows; its walls a dusky pink web of coral and the lights dim as they play over plush velvets and gauze. The space is reminiscent of a boudoir and the Mayor wrinkles her nose ever so slightly in distaste. She glances over at a large bed in the corner with mild concern, but the Sea Queen leads her past the bed to a round dining table at which two ghastly violet chairs wait patiently.

As soon as they take their seats, the doors glide back open and the brunette's eyes widen as an extravagant selection of food is brought in on silver platters. It is not this small feast that causes her disquiet, but those who bring it. Six in all- four women, two men- with their heads bowed and their disconcertingly pale limbs littered with white lines from what she supposes were beatings long ago. She is able to study such cruelty due to the fact that not one of the servants that place their platters on the table wears a scrap of clothing. Blinking, she looks away in distaste, studying her hands with a frown which deepens when their guests do not take their leave once the food has been lain out, but rather move to kneel silently behind their Queen.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

She forces herself to look up and nods with a falsely confident smile, tossing her hair back with an air of arrogance. The Sea Witch returns her smile and points a purple-painted talon at the selection before them.

"Would you like to help yourself, or would you rather it was seen to for you?"

As she says these words, one of the women that kneel behind her rises and moves over to the table. She slips easily onto the Sea Queen's lap- the latter playing a hand through long black hair as though her companion were a pet rather than a woman- and plucks up a vine of strange crimson fruit, twisting in the Witch's arms to feed her in a way that causes the brunette to blush deeply.

"I can manage myself."

She murmurs, and Ursula laughs throatily, continuing to paw at the girl in her lap who keeps her head bowed as she goes about her duty.

"How very like your mother you are, dear... My poor, dear Cora. My condolences for your loss, my darling."

"Thank you."

"I heard word that her passing was due to a broken heart... I do hope you weren't expecting anyone to _believe_ such nonsense?"

"I-"

"-Because it all seems rather... Fishy... If you will pardon my small pun. I suppose it has something to do with that little bitch and her whelp?"

"It... It-"

"-Because if _that_ were so... Then I must ask you, sweetheart, why keep Snow alive at _all_? Why _wait_ to seek your revenge on the insolent little harlot?"

"I... Well, that is why I have come to _you_ , Your Majesty. Death is not _good_ enough for the Fair Queen. No... Not after all that she has done to me. Not a _simple_ death, anyway. I want her to _suffer_ , and I want her _family_ to suffer the way mine has. I want her idiot prince to watch as I take her heart and crush it to nothing but dust. I want... I want the girl to watch as I rip his out also... I want _revenge_."

Regina swallows silently, a little shaken by just how easily the words fall from her lips, but she refuses to dwell upon such matters. The Sea Queen's own lips are drawn back to form a hungry smirk and she doesn't dare stop to muse on her chaotic emotions in case she cracks. Adopting her own malicious smile, she leans back in her chair, running a finger over her full lips as though deep in thought.

"Due to the curse, her Charming remains back in the world I have come from to find her. She and the child were taken from my world by a Wraith, despite neither one being marked. Such an easy escape from my wrath could not be allowed. I wish to bring them back and preform the public execution I have been denied for too long now."

"Oh, you will find none _here_ that don't believe you deserve it, my precious one. Snow White must pay for the things she has done, as must that imbecile of a prince. I suppose the girl is simply a bonus, and she will serve her purpose in time for you also."

"...Oh?"

"Well, of course! Oh, my dear, I imagine you will have quite your share of _fun_ with that little wretch, but do not fool yourself that you will not tire of her in time. It shows bad taste to cling on to something dirtied and used, my dear, and when the time comes to throw out the trash, those hateful patrons of the land you now rule over will watch as their Fair Queen's young one comes to a similar end as her mother. Do not underestimate the statement such a fate will make. She can serve you in more ways than one, Regina."

At a loss of words, the brunette simply continues to smile, although it feels as though the action is all teeth to her, and she worries her muscles may remain frozen in such a ghastly way. She averts her eyes as the Sea Queen lets out a low laugh as her dark eyes glitter merrily- sure that Ursula is imagining _just_ some of the ways in which Emma could 'serve' her- and resists the urge to clear her throat as the Witch's large hand begins to paw at the girl in her lap obscenely.

Catching the Mayor's discomfort, Ursula chuckles, pushing the girl off of her roughly and leaning forward to study the brunette.

"I would never have pegged you as the shy sort, my dear, indeed, it is not how you are spoken of at all!"

"Shy? No, I don't suppose I am shy... I am simply not used to such a... Display of flesh in a setting such as this."

"Ah, a mere cultural difference then. It is the way in which all of my servants are to present themselves, for what good are they to me, apart from to see to my needs. In this land, it is only those of notable chaste that are permitted to show it off through their attire. Disgrace is a much simpler thing beneath these waters, my dear. It isn't some abstract term applied hazily to another. It is a physical state."

"I see."

"I find it works most... pleasingly."

Nodding slowly, Regina clears her throat as she strives to change the subject.

"Am I to take your advice on how to deal with Em- the girl as a sign that you are willing to help me?"

"I will do what I can... But it won't be easy. It is possible, but preparations must be made."

"...Thank you."

"Hmm... Don't thank _me_. Thank your mother. I will see to this for _her,_ you understand?"

"Yes."

"And we have yet to discuss the matter of payment."

"...Payment?"

"My dear, you did not believe a woman from the land could come to me beneath these waters and expect my aid for _free_? Whether you are the queen or not- Cora's daughter or not- it isn't something for nothing, sweetheart."

"What do you desire from me?"

"I will have to think on that... There are few things you have that could be of interest to me."

"... But there is _something_ , then?"

"As I said... I must think on it... But I grow tired now, and wish to rest. I will have you shown to your bedchambers."

At her words, one of the young men that kneel dutifully behind the Sea Queen rises and pads slowly for the door, holding it open in a silent request the brunette take her leave. Regina frowns, turning to Ursula who busies herself gorging on the remains of the food on the table while the bare slaves behind her watch with dull, stupid eyes.

"Where are the others?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Snow White? Emma? Where are they?"

"Snow White will be in the tower, you will see it if head out of the castle, it is the tallest of the buildings. She will remain under armed guard until you take your leave, but they will allow you entrance; you are my honored guest."

"Thank you... And Emma?"

"Down below the kitchen in the servant's quarters."

"The servant's quarters?"

"My dear, the girl is yours, make no mistake, but down here, we share our-"

"She is not to be _shared_! I made that clear!"

"Calm down. I merely meant she is expected to behave in a way befitting to her situation."

"... I... I'd like to go to bed."

Ursula nods, shooing the young male that waits at the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty."

"Sweet dreams, dear one."

Regina turns and follows the servant out. Watching him with troubled eyes, she clears her throat before speaking with purposeful disdain.

"Hurry up, I am weary."

He complies wordlessly, almost trotting as he leads her up to a set of dark wooden doors and bows down low. She sniffs disinterestedly and shoos him away with her hand much like the Sea Witch had done. Watching him leave and slipping into the large bedroom, she rests her back against the door and sighs, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.

"Damn... Damn, damn, _damn_!"

Footsteps outside the door catch her attention, and on instinct she pulls the heavy wood ajar and peers through, making out a couple of young women hurrying through the hall.

"You. Stop."

They comply instantly, turning to regard her with that same hateful silence shown by their peers. Adopting a careful tone of arrogance, Regina takes a step towards them and stands with her hands on her hips.

"Show me how to get to the kitchens."


	18. Chapter 18

Her silent entourage leaves her by a set of large double doors she presumes lead to the kitchen. They abandon her without word, their heads bent low and their long hair offering their breasts a kind dignity denied further south. She sighs, watching them go with sickly distaste before pushing open heavy maple doors and slipping inside.

The kitchen is a large, cavernous room, which stands momentarily empty. A large tank beside a collection of glistening ovens holds a series of sluggishly swimming sea creatures, and she can't help but find the thought to be perverse given the location of the Kingdom. Dark eyes scanning her surroundings curiously, she jumps as the silence is shattered by a piercing shriek; so hatefully familiar to the one heard back in Snow's castle, but for one subtle difference... She is almost _sure_ that this noise is not one of pain, which leaves her wondering for what _other_ purpose one would cry out in such a way.

Searching hastily for a sign to where the entrance to the servant's quarters might be, she follows the sound of the commotion below, unable to make out any actual words, but by now sure she knows who the harsh cries belong to. A deafening crash has her hurrying into the pantry, and she swallows as she notes a narrow set of stairs from which pale light glimmers and occasional banging sounds eerily through the silence that cloaks her between shelves of pickled curiosities.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she descends the stairs swiftly, adopting a stern expression and hiding her trembling hands within the folds of her tailored coat. She has to duck slightly in order to enter the large cavern that plays host to the sounds of struggle, and she blinks in confusion as she takes in the scene being played out within, before raising her voice and barking angrily.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_?!"

The silence that follows is deathly, and she watches with wide eyes as the tangled mess of dirty limbs that had been scrapping ruthlessly on the filthy floor stills, and one by one, idiot faces rise to address her.

"Get off of her!"

At her furious glare, the pale creatures that pin the blonde to the floor exchange terrified glances before rising quickly and hurrying off down a curious corridor at the end of the room- their spectators following suit- leaving just the flickering light of the crude chandelier and silence in their wake.

The brunette follows their retreat with eyes wide with shock, before turning to the Sheriff and clearing her throat awkwardly. Emma lies with her hands held over her head protectively and her knees pulled up into her chest. What little remains of her clothes lies strewn in tatters across the floor and Regina looks away nervously as she notes the ripped shreds of the blonde's underwear pulled halfway down pale thighs. Speaking softly she moves to retrieve torn fabric, but it is soon clear that not one of the items she plucks from the floor remains fit for use.

"Are you alright?"

"Go away."

The Sheriff's response is teary and bitter and the brunette sighs as she stares uncomfortably at the floor.

"Just tell me if you're hurt or not. I can fix it."

"I'm fine."

"But... You're crying...?"

"Go _away_!"

"If you're hurt you need to-"

"I'm not _hurt!_ For fuck's sake! I'm _fine!_ "

Despite the awkwardness in doing so, the Mayor turns to the blonde as she catches a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Emma pulls herself up so that she sits with her knees up in front of her chest and her feet carefully together, protecting her dignity. Her eyes are dark with anger, but apart from a few dirty scuff marks littering her pale limbs, she seems no worse for wear. Regarding her with a frown, Regina works at the buttons to her coat slowly.

"Emma, I-"

"-Please... Just go away..."

"I'm _sorry_! Look! This wasn't part of the plan! Hell, _none_ of this is part of any plan! I... This is what I _warned_ you about... I didn't-"

"- _No!_ You warned me about some dumb bitch who signed her life away to that fucked up woman! You warned me to play _nice_! You warned me to... To... This is... It's _fucked up!_ I..."

The blonde shakes her head, calming herself down and muttering irritably beneath her breath. Struggling to catch Emma's words, the brunette frowns, pulling off her coat.

"You're embarrassed?"

"Of course I am! I'm f-fucking _naked!_ "

The words come out in a sob, but a bout of incredulous laughter follows, and Regina isn't sure if she should be worried about such turbulent behavior or not. Deciding not to dwell on the psyche of a woman she finds hard to understand at the best of times, she merely holds out her coat with an air of weariness.

Emma looks at the proffered garment as though confused, before standing up and plucking it from slender fingers. It is cut for riding, and so does little to hide her modesty, but she pulls up the tattered remains of her lingerie carefully, and buttons the wide lapels closed across her chest. Regina watches all this from out of the corner of her eye; not consciously meaning to observe the Sheriff in such a state of undress, but simply deciding it pointless to look away once such things have been glimpsed.

 _"The girl is your_ prize! _... What fun!"_

The blonde pulls her long hair out from the back of the coat with shaking hands, careful with raising the left one, but she shows no further sign of pain. She looks down at herself along with the Mayor and lets out a small laugh that is just a little too high to be mistaken for her normal tone. The brunette allows a small smirk in response, concluding Emma to look very odd indeed, which is saying something given the eclectic attire she has seen worn by the blonde by _choice_ in the past.

"Very fetching."

She supposes there exists a curious amount of truth to her goading; the Sheriff looking a little like a character in a fantasy book. Emma offers her a bemused shrug; digging her hands into the pockets of the coat in a way that causes the brunette a small amount of mental pain as she bites back the urge to scold the younger woman for pulling the expensive material out of shape. Sighing, she looks down towards a fallen statue that lies fractured in the corner. She supposes this must have been the cause of the crash heard from above.

"You're _sure_ you're alright?"

"Yeah... I guess... Just..."

"...Embarrassed."

"Yeah."

"Don't be. It isn't your fault. It's... It's the way things work here, and for that I'm sorry. I didn't know. I spoke with Ursula in her chambers... She _will_ help us, I think, but she may just play a few more dirty games first... I will do what I can, but right now... I'm afraid she holds all the cards..."

"Yeah... I know... You, uh... You were pretty smart with that whole speech you made earlier..."

"Thank you. I apologize for... Umm..."

"No need. I get it... I mean, don't get me wrong, I was a bit freaked out with that whole _ownership_ business- hah!- but... I get it..."

"I didn't really _want_ to hurt you back there, but you-"

"-I opened my mouth and a bunch of shit came out. It's a familiar story..."

Emma grins sheepishly and the Mayor nods, offering a small smirk.

"You must grow weary of the ending, surely?"

"You _would_ think so, wouldn't you."

"Impossible."

"Huh? What is?"

"You. You are impossible."

"Just one of my many talents..."

Regina rolls her eyes, shaking her head with a small scoff of laughter.

"If you say so, dear..."

Emma grins, before looking warily towards the darkened corridor and biting her lip.

"I thought she'd be down here, though..."

"Who?"

"My... My mom. I thought... I don't know where she-"

"- In the tower. She's in the tower... She isn't Mary Margaret here, dear, she's Snow White, and as such she will be seen as a royal captive. Ursula has her under guard-"

"-Oh man, she-"

"- Will be _fine_! It is not the most pleasurable of positions, I sympathize, but it serves to keep her safe."

"... You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be about _anything_ in this place..."

"... I _hate_ not understanding anything in this world. I feel like... I feel like I can't take care of _anything_."

"Well... So long as you take care of _yourself_ , dear. Your mother and I... We may not see eye to eye, but I will tell you this much... I am a force to be reckoned with, of that I assure you... She bested me many a time. She is not so weak as you may think her to be."

"I don't think she's weak, I just..."

"You're not used to being the one that needs looking after..."

"Right... I fucking _hate_ it!"

"One would never have guessed."

"Oh, shut _up_ , Your Majesty!"

Regina laughs as her eyes widen in surprise before giving the younger woman a stern glance.

"You need to learn to respect royalty, Miss Swan- no, don't give me that look-... It is those who don't learn from history that are doomed to repeat it. Learn from what happened today... I gave your mother my word that I wouldn't let harm befall you if I could help it, but you have to play _your_ part too, you understand?... I have come to expect the minimum level of civility from yourself, and, while this vexes me like you wouldn't _believe_ , I would highly suggest you practice your manners on _myself_ as they may well play quite a key part in your near future."

"Fine."

The blonde drops into an extravagant bow and the Mayor rolls her eyes; biting back a smirk at how ridiculous the younger woman looks doing so in her current attire. The thought brings her rudely back to their current situation, and her dark eyes become slightly more wary as smooths her hair carefully back into perfect place.

"I... I'm unsure what Ursula would make of me coming down here to pay you a visit. As you have probably clued in on... There is a certain, um, code of attire- or lack of it- to be respected by her servants..."

"I'm not _her_ servant though! I thought I was your _prize_ or whatever?"

"Well, yes... But... You need to understand something, dear. While the thought of you playing underling-"

"-Bitch."

"... However you want to word it... While the thought amuses me a great deal, this isn't a game. If this were any other situation- if it wasn't _you,_ I mean- then I would have no qualms with the Sea Queen's ways. She could strip my spoil naked and I would relish the humiliation of it, so long as there were no wandering hands playing with what was mine."

"I'm touched."

"... Don't think too deeply on it, dear. I merely find the thought of the woman who gave birth to my son wandering around with the port from which he came through on display for the world to see to be in bad taste."

"Charming!"

"Just the truth, Sheriff."

"Fine."

"So long as we understand one another, dear."

"... Is that true though?"

"Is what true?"

"That you would... Like it wouldn't _bother_ you if one of your servants or whatever was stripped and played with and stuff? Like... That's just _ok_ in this world?"

"... No. It wouldn't _bother_ me per se... But... Not all of us are as crass as Ursula. It wouldn't interest me either."

"Fair enough."

"You look troubled."

"It's just kind of... I don't know."

"Evil?"

"Well, yeah."

"Are you forgetting to whom you are speaking?"

"The 'Evil Queen', sure, whatever. Are you forgetting what I told you?"

"To what are you referring?"

"I didn't particularly find you _evil_ before, Regina. After what you did for me back in the castle, I think of you as such even _less_ so now."

"Yes, well, it is what it is."

"So... I... I have to stay like this? You can't... You can't find me some clothes or something?"

"... Dear... I would suggest you lose the coat _too_ should the Queen come down here... She'll know who it belongs to."

"You'll get into trouble?"

"... We may _all_ get into trouble."

"So I... I really have to be... You know, _naked_ , now?"

"I... Look, I don't _know_ what happens now. They tried to take your clothes off you before, they may again. Either way, I would hide that coat, and hide it _well_ should Ursula come down here."

"... I don't want to stay down here on my own..."

Green eyes regard the brunette balefully and the Mayor sighs as she notes an ill-hidden note of fear in the younger woman's voice. She searches for something to say to break the uncomfortable silence but comes up empty as she watches the Sheriff cast her eyes down miserably to her feet. Extending her hand and brushing the luxurious fabric that covers the blonde's arm gently, she smiles in a way she hopes is encouraging when Emma glances up at her and speaks softly.

"I can imagine. But it shouldn't be for long, okay? Just please... Listen to me about the coat, and try to behave yourself, yes? I'll try to sort things out as quickly as possible... Just..."

"Trust you."

"Yes."

Casting her eyes up to the ceiling and letting out a low sigh or frustration, Emma shakes out her curls and fiddles with the buttons to the coat irritably. Wrestling it loose, she pulls it off and hands it back to the Mayor who keeps her eyes trained on the younger woman's face with a curious frown.

"Take it."

"Miss Swan?"

"You want me to behave in a way that will keep us all out of trouble, and I'll have a hard enough time not fucking _that_ up. If not having the coat will make it easier, then I don't want it. If she comes down and finds it... I don't want you and Mary Margaret to get into trouble. _Real_ trouble."

The brunette takes the coat silently, pulling it back on over her delicate corset. The Sheriff's long hair works in her favor and provides her with at least a little modesty, but she has a hard time keeping her eyes from traveling the defined lines of muscle that form the blonde's really rather pleasing silhouette. Aware of the awkwardness that hangs between them, Emma adopts a mock tone of seriousness as she regards the brunette with a burlesque frown.

"But that's _all_ you're getting. The pants are mine!"

"Thank heavens for that!"

Regina smirks, inwardly berating herself for just how much she enjoys the blonde's crude sarcasm, while trying not to inspect the flimsy material to which the younger woman refers too enthusiastically.

"I should go..."

"...Okay..."

The brunette turns to leave but stops when she reaches the stairs, glancing back at the Sheriff.

"Stay beneath the chandelier."

"How come?"

"I may be mistaken, but I would guess the darkness that prevails in most of the rooms I have encountered so far to be telling. Perhaps they don't do well under too much light?... I could be wrong, but it is a theory none the less."

"Thanks... I'll put it to the test."

"Alright... Emma, I don't think they'll harm you, you know. I think-"

"-It's okay. I'm sure it'll be fine."

The fearful hitch to the younger woman's tone suggests she believes otherwise, but she gives the Mayor a bright smile and carries on lightly.

"I just hope they don't keep me awake _talking_ all night."

She winks, and moves to sit against the wall beneath the flickering chandelier while the brunette shakes her head and offers her an amused smirk.

"I think you may be alright with that one."

"You think?"

"I do... Well... Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Night, Regina."

* * *

"Something wrong, dear?"

The brunette jumps as she enters the kitchen to find the Sea Queen waiting with her ample backside resting against the counter. A nervous looking servant works feverishly to wash up a selection of pans in the sink while casting the odd terrified glance at the Witch. Regina pulls herself together, clearing her throat.

"I just... I..."

"You were checking on the girl?"

"Well, I-"

"-A curious thing to be doing if she is who you _say_ she is..."

"Who I say... How do you mean?"

"Why bother yourself with her well-being? She is nothing to you. Nothing but a toy. A pet. You wouldn't take the time to go check on a lamb to see if it was happy with the turn of events that led it to be tethered out in the barn."

"... She is not a lamb."

"I see. Why, I would almost-"

"She is _my_ lamb. _My_ prize. I understand that there are some cultural differences as you say, but I do not wish for her to be on display the way she is... She is mine. I detest the thought of having a lapdog tainted by mongrels."

"My, my... A little possessive, don't you think?"

The Mayor hurries to clear her mistake, but the gleeful look on the Sea Witch's face has her relaxing slightly. It is a look of amusement, rather than that of disbelief. Sniffing arrogantly, the brunette tosses back her hair, speaking with a new confidence.

"Why wouldn't I be when I have come into possession of such a treat. The Fair Queen's daughter. Snow White's misguided young whelp. She has a lot to learn, and I have a much to teach her in the ways of servitude... But it is _I_ whom she is to call mistress, and it is I _alone_ who should reap the pleasures of owning the girl."

"You make her sound almost _desirable_ , dear."

Ursula muses with a smirk; too busy relishing the subject of conversation to notice the way her words cause the brunette to recoil slightly as beautiful, dark eyes glitter warily.

"... She is mine."

Throwing her head back and laughing richly, the Sea Witch gives a burlesque performance of wiping an imaginary tear from her eye before adopting an authoritative tone and regarding the Mayor with a piercing stare that has the latter wishing to look mercifully away from those all-seeing eyes.

"So you keep saying. Be that as it may, you are _my_ guest, in _my_ land, in _my_ home. The girl is a servant, and she will be treated as such. I will not have her paraded about as though she were _special_ in front of the scum that resides down below these floorboards. She may be yours, sweetheart, but in this land, she _is_ a mongrel. She is not mine to play with, nor is she my guest. Nor is she my captive, as her royal mother is. She is _nothing_. Now come. It is high time you got some rest... I do not take kindly to visitors scouring the halls of my palace, guest or not."

"Yes, Your Majesty, I assure you, I meant no disrespect."

"... Of course not, dear one. Of course not. I will have someone fetch you before breakfast in the morning."


	19. Chapter 19

Breakfast is an unusual affair. Regina sits rigidly at the long, narrow table she had spotted when she had first entered the castle, staring pensively down at the strange, half-eaten fruit that rests upon the large shell-plate before her. The Sea Queen does not accompany her; Ursula busy elsewhere 'receiving company' according to the low murmur of the young merman who stands hesitantly a few feet away and watches her eat.

Growing tired of her wary audience, she pushes her plate away dismissively, her dark eyes flashing with authority as she casts her gaze upon the guards that wait at the doors which lead from the room.

She knows that they will let her pass without word, but she knows nothing about how keen an eye they have been instructed to survey her with.

Her guess is a very keen eye indeed.

And so, as she stands to stalk towards the doors, she finds that her instinctual direction of the kitchens leaves her second-guessing herself. She is anxious to find the Sheriff- not only because of the precarious situation in which she'd left her, but also due to the fact that, no matter how irksome she finds her, Emma is still a damn sight more favorable company than the ominous creatures that lurk the halls- but she imagines news of a trip down to the caverns beneath the kitchen will quickly reach unwanted ears.

She is confused as to how things have ended up the way they have. Her insistence that the blonde was to belong to her alone... To play her prize... Had led her to believe Emma would be left within her company. Ursula's continued adamancy that the Sheriff should be treated in the way she currently finds herself and kept down below the floors on which the Queen herself walks perplexes her. Normally such a curious breach to her will would have her questioning- arguing- such matters, but she appreciates the need to tread carefully when dealing with the Sea Witch, and she can't quite shake the feeling that there is some darker purpose to Ursula's apparent whim.

_"She is a mongrel... She is nothing."_

Regina finds there to be a touch of falseness to those words, but her brow furrows as she struggles to imagine what purpose there could be to the Witch in lying to her. Shaking uneasy thoughts away, she moves swiftly through the doors and proceeds instead towards the large archway that acts as the entrance to the castle.

Standing for a moment at the top of the magnificent marble steps that lead down into a coral courtyard, she regards the ominous tower a little way into the distance apprehensively before beginning her descent.

She is nervous as to the possible repercussions of checking on Emma, so she will see to her mother instead.

* * *

Snow ignores the brunette when the latter first enters the dimly lit room at the top of the disconcertingly thin tower; her eyes closed and her mouth drawn. A series of weathered stalactites create a barrier between them, and try as she might, the Mayor's sharp eyes fail to make out any visible entry point on Snow's side.

It causes her great unease to reside within a world about which she understands so little.

"They say only the guilty sleep..."

"Regina?"

Green eyes flutter open, and the younger woman sits up wearily to regard the Queen through the natural set of bars with a frown.

"What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"

"Gloat? About what? You may be behind bars, dear, but it doesn't hold a candle to the misfortune _I_ desire upon you. As it is, this little 'punishment' is none of my doing... And I believe you should be aware of this by now..."

"None of your doing... And yet isn't it curious that you walk freely..."

"She was a friend of my mother's, and that is the _only_ reason you are still breathing presently-"

Regina snaps, and Snow opens her mouth to argue, but the Mayor steps towards the bars swiftly and throws her a dark look which silences the words dancing upon rose-red lips.

"-And don't forget it. She granted me her ear, but she owes me nothing. I am not behind bars, but I am in no easier position than yourself. But stop with such talk now. This is not my land, and I know not who may be listening in."

The brunette's words are little more than a whisper. The raven-headed woman regards her with a thin-lipped frown, but nods to show her understanding. Brow creasing further, her eyes flicker to the shadows that shroud the Queen before speaking fearfully.

"Why isn't Emma with you?"

Dark eyes regard her sternly and when Regina speaks once more, she does so at her normal volume with pointed coldness.

"You are Snow White- the Fair Queen- and yet you reside behind bars. Any spawn of _yours_ is hardly going to be accompanying me around the castle."

There is a peculiar bitterness to her tone for which she inwardly scolds herself; reminding herself that this is Emma she's speaking of, and that not having the insolent young woman mouthing off at her every five minutes should be a blessing in itself.

Her words have the desired effect on Snow, who- despite still glaring at her furiously- takes the hint that she should cease discussing matters in the same way they'd had the luxury of doing back on land. Adopting a louder tone, she continues with carefully measured anger.

"You will not speak of her in such a way! Where is my daughter?"

"Where she belongs-"

The brunette pauses momentarily, her expression unreadable, before she continues with a minute nod of her head to suggest that she is taking care of things.

-the servant's quarters of the castle..."

The paler woman's mouth drops open- horrified- and the Queen muses that at this _particular_ moment, Mary Margaret may as well never have existed. This is purely Snow- Snow as she once was- and for all the humbleness displayed by her cursed counterpart, her current expression reads only of regal pride, and incredulity that her child- her princess- should find herself in such a position.

Regina can't help but wonder how those irritatingly familiar green eyes would widen should she mention the blonde's current lack of attire.

_Forced lack of attire._

A small part of her- and she supposes that this could be called her ' _post_ -post-curse' part... Her 'pre-saving Emma' part... wants to do just that.

It is a spiteful thought, and she is surprised that she recognizes it as such.

_It has nothing to do with Emma. It was just obvious and so you picked up on it... Not like you, this is true, but it has nothing to do with the girl. Nothing to do with the Sheriff._

Instead, she gives a second small nod as her gaze softens considerably and she risks mouthing silently

'Ursula is going to help us. It's going to be ok.'

She just hopes she's right.

For Henry's sake.

* * *

Ursula stands with her hands on her hips and a smile stretching out her purple-painted lips to reveal slightly discolored teeth. Her heavily hooded eyes glitter as she studies the young woman before her thoughtfully.

She had slipped down here after seeing her guests to the ballroom in order to check on the residents that inhabit the doomed tank at the end of the shadowed cavern. Upon entering the larger cave at the entrance beneath the kitchen, she had failed to spot the blonde rested against the far wall in her hurry to reach her destination. It is only now, as she stands with her needs sated- _that_ need sated- that she's clocked Emma slumped in uneasy slumber beneath the chandelier.

She ignores the irritating itch the light brings to her slick flesh as her smile widens into a sly smirk. The blonde sleeps awkwardly, and her long hair tumbles over one shoulder exposing her slim frame completely.

No. _Almost_ completely.

Ursula frowns at the narrow swatch of fabric that covers the younger woman's sex pensively. The blonde's pale flesh is littered with green and purple flowers where bruises are beginning to heal towards yellow. Her ribs appear to have suffered the brunt of whatever punishment earned her such marks, and the Sea Witch sighs as she feels just a hint of jealousy towards her old friend's arrogant young brat.

"Oh, but don't we always want to play with the toys treasured by others so much _more_ than those belonging to ourselves..."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I suppose I should give this chapter a bit of a warning. Personally, I'm a huge fan of horror/ gore, but for those of you who are not, this chapter may be a little bloody. I really wanted to include this scene however, due to personal taste and I liked the idea, but I will say now that this is a one off and that I don't plan- unless it proves to be something you all actually want to see more of- to write any more for this particular fic in the same vein. I will happily take one-shot requests from those of you who do prefer this style of writing. Please enjoy, and please comment!

_"Oh, but don't we always want to play with the toys treasured by others so much more than those belonging to ourselves..."_

Soft words but the Sea Queen's sultry tone rouses the blonde and Ursula adopts a small smile as the younger woman's eyelashes flutter and her brow creases. Waiting patiently for cool green- sea green- eyes to blink open and come hazily into focus, her smile widens as she bids the Fair Queen's whelp good morning.

"Clever little thing, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

Emma frowns in confusion, stretching in an attempt to appease the sore twinge gnawing away at her muscles due to her peculiar sleeping position. The act has her quickly realizing she remains all but naked and she lets out a choked gasp as she quickly curls up with her knees hugged in close to her chest and her feet covering the scant flash of her underwear. To have to do so frustrates her, for she wishes to stand and look down on the squat woman before her; such submissive behavior not sitting well with her in the slightest.

"You stayed beneath the light, sweetheart, I was merely commending you on your cunning..."

"Oh... Well... I-"

"-Pity."

The blonde frowns, opening her mouth as if to inquire just why such a thing should be seen negatively by the Sea Witch, but she stops herself before the words fall from her tongue; mindful of Regina's harsh warnings and wise to the fact that once she begins to speak, she has a hard time quelling her words. Instead, she simply raises an eyebrow, waiting uncomfortably for Ursula to go on.

"What happened there?"

The Queen points a stubby finger towards one of the water-soiled dressings adorning the blonde's skinny knee. Hesitating for just a moment, Emma regards the salt-encrusted cotton plaster neutrally, plucking at its frayed edge.

"I fell."

"I see... Of your own accord, or...?"

Brow furrowing, the Sheriff glances up at the Sea Witch as she tries to decipher just what will constitute as the 'right' answer.

"...Yes... I tripped..."

"How clumsy of you."

"Uh... I guess..."

The blonde's frown deepens, not sure if she should feel offended or not. What she _does_ feel is a growing sense of disquiet, and she reminds herself, yet again, to keep her silence.

"And who is responsible for dressing your injuries?"

"Uh..."

The simplest response would be that she herself had seen to the various cuts and grazes littering her pale flesh, but the curious glint in the older woman's eye has her squriming in her own skin as she tries to figure out whether Ursula asks her a trick question or whether the loathsome woman just forever acts in such a way.

"... My mother."

"Oh?... Curious."

Unable to help herself, Emma breaks the silence following the Sea Queen's words with her own question; alarm bells sounding loudly in her head as she frets she has made some glaringly obvious mistake in dubbing Mary Margaret as her nurse.

"H-how come?"

"The dressings to your knees are of little interest apart from that they mar such delectable young flesh-"

The blonde shudders visibly, causing the Witch's eyes to sparkle with malicious humor

"-But the bandage to your elbow consists of an intricate weave often used during the darker days of my dear, beloved Cora's reign... Oh yes, I remember it very well from the poor, unfortunate souls who had the ill-fortune to attempt fleeing the land by sea. "

"Well... My mother comes from the same land, she must've learnt it while-"

"- It is a weave used exclusively by the Royal Guard... The _rightful_ Royal Guard. The fabric is crossed in such a way that if one were to enchant it first, the binding would act to protect the injured from infection of any kind... Not often a style seen by those who do not possess magic, as I'm sure you understand..."

"Well... I don't know..."

Emma shrugs awkwardly, coaching her features into an expression of what she hopes is disinterest. Mimicking this gesture in a way that seems almost teasing, The Sea Queen extends her hand, eyes flashing darkly when the younger woman simply regards this offering warily.

"Has no one ever informed you of proper etiquette when in the presence of one's betters? Get up, girl; you would rise for your Queen and you will rise for me."

Weighing up her options miserably, a deep blush alights the blonde's cheeks before she gets stiffly to her feet, shaking her head so as to try and tease her hair into providing her at least a little modesty. Watching the younger woman's futile attempt at covering herself up with a smirk, Ursula allows her hooded gaze to wander pale limbs without pretense. Crossing her arms awkwardly, the Sheriff makes a small noise of disgust as long nails find her waist.

"Come, sweetness, I wish to show you something."

Resisting the urge to pull away, the Sheriff allows herself to be led away from the light, her heart beating ever faster as they journey down the dank hallway into the shadows. She catches glimpses of what she first mistakes for glimmers of light, but soon realises to be the pale flash of unclad bodies cowering into the caverns that line the main walkway. Shivering as the temperature drops considerably, she turns to the Sea Queen and addresses her nervously.

"Where are we going?"

Ursula offers her a slow smile, but no further information, simply proceeding to fidget with the long hair tickling her fingers which she keeps clasped at the blonde's bare waist. Bowing her head as surreptitiously as possible to put an end to this, Emma attempts to swallow her nerves and seek out that distant, hard place within herself she has had little need to access of lately.

After what feels to be an extortionately long time, Ursula leads her through into a large cavern at the end of the hallway and the Sheriff lets out a noise of audible disquiet as her eyes widen upon spying what lines the far wall.

"There are few who are fortunate enough to tour the lands, darling, and it would be such a shame not to allow you the best of our sights... Just don't you go telling your Mistress I've spoiled you so."

"My... M-my..."

But the blonde finds the words dying on her tongue as she continues to stare at the large, murky tank before her. Its walls are a thick, algae infested glass, and she imagines its size is similar to that of her entire bedroom back in Storybrooke. Swimming sluggishly through the dank waters within is an animal she has only ever seen depicted on the page; most zoos lacking the space to house such a beast.

"Is that... Is that what I think it is?"

"Well, my dear, that depends _entirely_ on what you think it to be... I believe on land they call it a Carcharodon Carcharias; a 'Great White'."

"Holy shit..."

Ursula laughs huskily at the younger woman's whispered response, watching the naked fear that finds the blonde's sharp features with gleeful interest.

"Is it... Is it like a pet?"

"No, honey, down here we see little purpose in owning those of another species in such a way as you land-walkers do. No, this is entertainment."

"Entertainment?"

"Indeed."

"I don't understand..."

"Observe."

Stalking over to the corner, the Witch plucks something from against the wall in a flash of silver. Holding the rusted sword out to the Sheriff, she smirks at the way the younger woman recoils instantly and raises her hands in partially formed fists.

_Feisty little thing you've lucked in on, Regina, my dear._

"Take it."

"...Why?"

"Well, for one, because your superior has requested that you do so, and that should be reason enough."

Biting the insides of her cheeks to refrain from letting Ursula in on just what she thinks about _that,_ Emma reaches tentatively for the weapon held out to her by the Queen, her brow furrowed. Pointing to a set of iron steps lining the tank to the left, the Witch beckons the Sheriff towards them.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, if they hold my weight, they will hold your skinny frame."

"I... uh..."

Looking to the Sea Queen for further explanation, the blonde weighs the sword in her hands warily; eyes troubled as she glances from the shark cruising slowly in the tank- much too small for such a predator- and the Witch herself. She is unsure which one of the two to approach with a greater caution.

"Mount the steps and break the waters with the tip of the sword; she'll come to you... Wait for the belly to be exposed and take the blade to flesh."

"What? _Why_!?"

"Oh, my dear, such horror in your eyes and no reason for it! She is of no use, no _value_... Why not use her for entertainment?... A girl in your position, of all people, should understand such a notion..."

"I..."

Pale hand resting on the iron banister, Emma shakes her head, her long hair tumbling over her chest. Looking down at the sword in her hand she holds it out to the chuckling Witch with a frown.

"I can't do that."

"You can, and you will. Now go on, get on up those steps with you."

Panicked green flickers back to the top of the steps, and the Sheriff shakes her head with greater vigour; mouth drawn unhappily.

"No, please, I really can't!"

"Go on, girl."

Cruel fingers dig into the soft flesh of her upper arm and guide her roughly towards the stairs, causing the blonde to stumble slightly as she strives to resist the Queen's surprising strength. Rolling her eyes and changing tactic, Ursula slips past the younger woman and pulls her up with several hard yanks of her hand which send white pain coursing sharply through freshly healed ribs. The steps shake alarmingly, and Emma lets out an uninhibited yelp as she imagines she hears the metallic tinker of a screw falling to the stone floor.

"No, no, don't-"

"-Hush child!"

Once she stands at the top of the steps on the small platform beside the Witch, the blonde squeezes her eyes shut; momentarily dizzy as she glimpses steel grey cruising below murky green. Forcing them back open at the Queen's insistence, she loses all sense of her well-practiced guard as she pleads with the older woman childishly; holding out the sword at arm's length.

"I can't, please, take it! _Take it_!"

The Queen rounds on the blonde, causing the younger woman to shy away in self defense and let out a low cry as she finds herself backed up against the cold glass of the tank. Brandishing the sword, the Sheriff's eyes are wide as she regards the Witch fretfully.

"I'm not doing it! It's _cruel_... What _purpose_ will it serve?!"

"Purpose? Why, it serves as a form of entertainment, of course."

"Why? How is taking a sword to an animal that has no option of escape at all _entertaining_?!"

"...Do you know much of the species? Of sharks in general, sweetheart?"

"No."

"A Shark is a huntress of the purest of forms, dear. She is a predator of faultless design, and once she is taken by her bloodlust, she is incapable of forming even the _simplest_ of thoughts... A magnificent display... Observe."

Plucking the sword from the blonde's shaking hands, the Sea Queen finds the small of the younger woman's back and pushes her roughly up against the tank; Emma crying out as her hipbones make sharp contact with the glass edge as she believes, for a second, that the Witch means to send her plummeting over the top into the waters below. This noise of distress garners two results; the Sheriff scolds herself inwardly, hating the way she is incapable of controlling such signs of weakness due to the electric fear coursing through her blood. Meanwhile, Ursula wets her lips in a most obscene fashion, eyes glittering darkly as she observes the terrified trembling of lissome limbs and the expression of raw panic on the blonde's face.

 _Such a pretty face- such a_ young _face- when absent of that obstinate scowl._

"I trust that you will have the good manners to watch a display being put on for your benefit..."

The Sheriff nods slowly, all too aware of the Witch's hand resting over the chilled skin of her lower back, eyes widening as she realizes that the very tips of her long curls float lazily on the water's murky surface. Pulling her hair hastily back with shaking fingers, she watches as the Sea Queen positions the sword over the shark tank.

Using the tip of the blade, Ursula creates a small whirlpool of bubbles; the broken surface of the water glimmering ominously. The beast's reaction is slow; its innate prowess dulled by its pointless existence within the glass-walled prison. As she swims towards the disrupted surface, the shark's eyes roll back to expose idiot whites and the blonde groans quietly. Waiting for the beast to crest the tank's surface, the Sea Queen lowers the sword in a flash of silver; her action precise and her aim true.

The shark's reaction is immediate as the waters turn a dull red; her jaw stretching wide as her slick body rocks and thrashes in a frenzy, turning and rolling within the suddenly wild waves of the tank as she strives to devour the blood and viscera spilling out about her.

The horror lasts for several minutes, and by the time the remains of the beast sink lethargically to the depths of the reddened, stagnant tank, the Sheriff swallows repeatedly as she struggles to keep herself from retching. Her flesh is clammy and she squeezes her eyes shut; her lashes wet and her complexion ashen.

Ursula watches the younger woman with growing fascination, dark eyes roaming over slender limbs before coming to rest on the delicate flutter of the blonde's ribcage as she strives to regulate her harsh breaths. Stroking a finger gently down the softly defined line of the Sheriff's spine, she adopts a small smirk as Emma no longer pulls away from such a touch, but simply lets out a low whimper.

"Magnificent, no?"

* * *

Regina jumps at a quiet knock that beats on the other side of her bedroom door. Rising from the bed where she had been sitting- trying to gather her thoughts and their options with little joy- she stalks towards the heavy wood cautiously. Pulling herself up to her full height, she adopts a neutral tone of what she hopes is authority.

"Come in."


	21. Chapter 21

"Come in."

When silence greets her request, the brunette frowns; stalking towards the door and repeating herself more forcefully.

"Come in... Who's there?"

Gathering her nerves, she pulls at the heavy door, letting out a choked cry as she is almost knocked aside by flailing limbs. Rolling her eyes as she imagines the blonde had been pressed up against the door- presumably in an attempt to discern whether she had found the right room- she fusses with her hair primly, turning to make her way over to sit on the bed.

" _Really_ , Miss Swan..."

The younger woman offers no response, and it is only once she glances back up at the Sheriff that the Queen properly takes in the image she portrays. Her tone losing its disdainful irritability, she regards the pale woman with a furrowed brow before moving from the bed to pad cautiously back towards her.

"...Emma?"

She hadn't forgotten about the blonde's state of dress- or lack of it- but she is still uncomfortable when presented with slender, unclad limbs once more. Nevertheless, she scans the younger woman's pale frame critically before she considers herself content that the Sheriff has sustained no further damage then that inflicted by her mother.

This begs the question however, of why Emma trembles the way she does.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

Taking in the way the blonde simply shakes her head, her eyes wide and breath hitched, Regina shakes her gently, becoming increasingly concerned at the way the usually outspoken young woman fails to answer her.

Hell, to even properly _acknowledge_ her.

"Miss Swan?"

"I... She... It _ate_ itself, Regina... It fucking _ate_ itself..."

Harsh breaths become ever more sporadic, and the brunette recognises the Sheriff's state for what it is and ushers her quickly over to the bed before the blonde proceeds to have a full blown panic attack right in the middle of her bedroom.

"Sit, and put your head between your legs."

Manipulating pale limbs as she speaks to do just that, Regina frowns nervously as she keeps the younger woman pushed gently down.

"What on earth are you on about, dear."

"I can't... I couldn't... She wanted me to, but-"

"-She wanted you to do what? Emma? _What_ did she want you to do?!"

Despite her previous warning to stay down, the brunette pulls at the blonde's shoulder firmly so as to assess distraught features properly. Eyes widening when the latter simply lets out a racked sob, she acts on impulse; pulling the younger woman into her and stroking long curls warily as she shushes her in way similar to how she used to do Henry.

"Stop this now, you're alright."

Her words are tinged with a slight inflection as her mind races with hateful images of just what could have happened to get the Sheriff into the state she's in. Waiting for Emma's trembling to die down, Regina speaks to her softly, tightening her embrace subconsciously as she becomes aware of the clammy chill emanating from the blonde.

_She can't keep walking around like this, she'll catch her death in cold._

"Tell me what happened."

Dark eyes widen as the Sheriff proceeds to retell of her ordeal with the shark. The blonde seems to falter slightly towards the end- her tone becoming a little more reminiscent of its usual self- and the brunette wonders if she now feels that her tale isn't worth the fuss she's making out.

She decides such stupidity would be just like Emma.

"It's alright, dear, you're alright... In a way I am glad that you witnessed such cruelty, however horrific it must have been... My warnings were not just empty threats, Miss Swan... A valuable lesson, if not a pleasant one... Rather the shark than yourself."

"... Thank you."

It is an odd response, but neither woman is lacking in understanding of just what the blonde refers to. Shrugging, and moving briskly away from the Sheriff now that she seems to have pulled herself together somewhat, the brunette surveys her critically; not at all in favour of the way pale skin remains dappled with gooseflesh and soft lips are tinged lightly blue. Pulling at the throw that lines the base of the large bed, she drapes it over the younger woman's bare shoulders in a businesslike fashion, despite admonishing her softly.

"You really shouldn't be up here, dear."

Green eyes regard her balefully and she sighs, brow creasing as she strives towards something more to say.

"Look... If I had known it would so quickly get to this point...That is would get to this point at _all_..."

"It was our only option. You said so yourself."

"I did... But-"

"-Henry needs us. I don't regret anything... Not if you said it was the only way."

"That's... Trusting of you, Sheriff..."

"I suppose so... Fortunately I happen to know I'm right to do so."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?"

"Are you _really_ going to keep trying to bait me with questions like that? You've done more for me and Mary Margaret over here than most people have ever done for me my whole life... Couple that with the fact you can't stand me and I'd say you've proven yourself quite a valuable ally."

"Not just the evil Queen."

"I already told you what I think of that."

"Quite..."

Sniffing arrogantly as she casts her gaze down to the fabric of her sleeve, Regina almost allows herself to relax a little before a sharp knock beats at the door. Glancing at the younger woman with sudden naked fear, she imagines her own apprehension is topped only by the terror written clearly across the blonde's face.

"Hide. _Now_!"

Pulling the throw from the Sheriff hurriedly as she whispers, she watches with troubled eyes as Emma disappears into the depths of her closet in a pale flash of bare flesh; stumbling slightly in her haste.

"Coming."

Her voice is rich, and she prays she sounds just as always, despite the harsh clench of her jaw and the cold nervousness working its way to the pit of her stomach. Stalking towards the door, she barely touches the handle before the heavy wood is pulled aside and the Sea Queen smiles at her viciously; all teeth.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a bit of a cheated response to a friend's request to write a chapter in any of my fics in which Emma 'comes out of the closet')

"Good morning, dear."

Stepping reluctantly aside as Ursula pushes past her into the bedroom, Regina offers a nervous glance towards closed closet doors before padding back to the bed and fussing with the discarded throw as though simply straightening the item out.

"Good morning."

"I hear you paid a little visit this morning?"

Heart racing cruelly in her chest, the brunette tosses back glossy locks arrogantly and feigns ignorance as she strives to deduce just what the hateful woman is trying to get out of her.

"Oh?"

"My guards paid witness to you stopping by the tower earlier... They say you sought out Snow White and engaged in discussion with the disgraced queen..."

"... I did."

"Then it _is_ true? Why, whatever would send you seeking counsel from _that_ no good harlot?"

The Sea Queen laughs, shaking her head at the very thought. Paying Regina's hesitancy to answer no mind, she takes a seat, uninvited, on plush covers and looks up into wary coals with a smirk.

"But alas, I am getting away from myself, as one has a tendency to do when so often surrounded by those undeserving of their company... Your peculiar desire to console young Snow is none of my current concern..."

Yellowing teeth flash in a sharklike grin, and the brunette knows better than to ask after the Witch's true reason for joining her as she fears she already knows the answer. Raising an eyebrow in a polite bid that Ursula continue, she keeps her silence as she takes a small step backwards; subconsciously moving to stand between the bed and the closet.

"...No, not my current concern at all, for the Fair Queen holds little interest to me, you see. Oh, that you should have arrived alongside her with the young woman acting of her own free will is peculiar of _course_ , but while she remains incarcerated, I find the whole matter to be rather dull... Her pup, however... Ada?-"

"-Emma..."

"Emma. That's right... _Emma_..."

Regina keeps her expression carefully neutral as Ursula rolls the younger woman's name on her tongue in a way that is inexplicably obscene. Clearing her throat, she runs her hand through her hair primly, her breath catching sharply as the Sea Queen rises suddenly with liquid speed and bares down on her; hot breath tickling her cheeks.

"Where's the girl?"

"... Your Majesty?"

"Emma. Where is she?"

"... I was under the impression you had instructed her to stay within the servant's quarters..."

"Oh, I did, my dear, I most certainly _did_... And yet... I am under no illusion that the fact that she is nowhere to be found comes as any sort of _surprise_ to you."

"... The woman is a snake. That Emma should be missing is merely one of the _many_ negative facets to her character... Good behaviour is unfortunately rather lacking in-"

"-Oh, of that I have no _doubt_ , my lovem but I must say... Your tolerance of the matter is _most_ surprising... _Almost_ as surprising as your _own_ display of despicable manners..."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"Try _again_ , dearest! Where is the girl?"

"As I _said_ , I don't know-"

"-Oh, such _lies_!"

"Please, I don't-"

"- _Hush!_ "

Her breathing heavy, Regina does as she's told, regarding the Witch with well-masked fear as the older woman glares at her with glittering eyes. Taking a step towards the brunette, the Sea Queen closes the distance between them so that she stands flush with the Mayor. When she speaks, her tone is toxic.

"I will give you one more chance to answer me...Where is the girl?"

"... The closet."

The brunette's voice is little more than a whisper, her complexion pale. She fears for both the blonde and herself with this admission, but she is familiar with too many stories of sticky ends reached by those who oppose the seemingly all-knowing Queen to continue with her fruitless gamble that Ursula may leave her in peace.

"See... That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"... I apologize."

Smirking at the cold bite the brunette is unable to keep from her words, Ursula turns to the closet with a smile.

"Emma, dear, the game's up, sweetest. Could you be a darling and come out here?"

Tensing nervously, the brunette keeps dark eyes trained on the closet doors, but they remain silently closed.

" _Now_ , precious, I don't have all day."

Sickly sweet words become suddenly icy as Ursula barks this new warning. Eyes flickering to the older woman as she proceeds to raise her hand ominously, the Mayor speaks up swiftly; a slight tremble in her voice, but otherwise commanding very believable authority.

"I suggest you do as you're told, Miss Swan. Desist with this nonsense!"

Stalking past the Witch as the latter makes to open the closet herself, Regina raises a hand and forces the doors open with a deafening crash of splintering wood, before yanking the blonde out into the room by the wrist.

She does so roughly, but simultaneously succeeds in pulling Emma close to her side and just out of reach of the Witch's long-nailed fingers.

Growling as the younger woman opens her mouth in an instinctual snarl, the brunette does the first thing that comes to mind and pushes her down onto her knees; hoping the shock of such a forceful landing will remind the Sheriff of her place in their current little ruse.

The sharp yelp from beside her has her surmising her point has been made.

"Well, would you look at that..."

Painted lips smirk as hooded eyes feast upon pale flesh before flickering up to prey on the brunette.

"And just what do you have to say to _explain_ -"

"-Nothing. I have nothing to say to explain what she's doing here... Nothing I wish to say _out loud_ , anyway."

The words fall from her lips with frightening ease, and Regina finds herself acting on impulse rather than cunning. The thought terrifies her, but she knows enough of the Sea Queen's debauched ways to imagine later that doing so may also have saved her.

_For if I'd had time to think on it... I would never have done such a thing._

Grabbing a fistful of curls, she pulls the Sheriff back up onto her feet, ignoring Emma's choked cry; a mixture of rage and pain. Pulling the younger woman flush, she allows her hand to rest possessively- sordidly- at the skinny peak of the blonde's hip, while her other works to pull back golden tresses to expose the vulnerable column of the Sheriff's throat. When she speaks her tone is curiously husky, and she deduces both Ursula and Emma understand the emotion behind her actions, as the Sea Queen licks her lips and the blonde shivers.

"I expressed before that the whelp is mine... As such, if I wish to use her to relieve my boredom while you work so kindly to aid us, I fail to see why I should be degraded into explaining myself."

Tugging a little harder on the tangled curls cascading from her clenched fist as the younger woman strives to turn in her grasp to regard her, she allows the hand which rests on Emma's hip to slide round to encircle the Sheriff's slim waist fully; clutching the blonde's bare frame pointedly against her own.

"The girl needs to learn how to behave, I realise... But I trust you can understand why I would be unwilling to perform such... Lessons... Before an audience?"

Struggling to keep from dropping her gaze from Ursula's as the older woman studies her with feverish intensity, she realises that she holds her breath as she awaits whatever fate her quick thinking may bring her.

 _Awaits_ us _._

After all, feels a curious sense of responsibility towards the blonde.

"But of _course_ , my darling... But of course..."

Breathing a sigh of relief, the brunette keeps the Sheriff firmly in place as she watches the Sea Queen retreat towards the door with a despicably lustful grin; absentmindedly aware of the way lean muscle ripples beneath her fingers as Emma squirms uncomfortably in her grasp.

"I will leave you to your prize, Regina..."

The perverted lilt to the older woman's tone has the Queen shuddering as she has no trouble imagining just what sort of activities the Witch may presume she engage in with the younger woman clutched possessively to her side.

"You may bring her to dinner... I imagine that will be quite the _treat_..."

Winking as she slips eel-like through the door, whether the Sea Queen notices the twin expressions of unease her parting words garner is hard to say.

The brunette is willing to bet such a thing hasn't escaped the despicable woman's keen eye.

"... Damn."


	23. Chapter 23

_"Damn"_

The Queen's response to Ursula's dinner invitation tapers off into a pained hiss as she is pushed rudely to the side; almost stumbling to her knees. Glaring furiously at the younger woman responsible for such rough behavior, she finds her anger dissipates only slightly when Emma collides forcefully with the cupboard door in her haste to get away; the blonde staggering slightly before leaning against the wall, her eyes wide and disconcertingly fear-blown.

"Why the fuck did you have to go and do that!?"

"Miss Swan! If I-"

"-Why did you tell her where I was?!"

Battling between irritation at the Sheriff's blatant stupidity and discomfort as the younger woman's current stance has her bare frame sordidly displayed- harsh breaths causing firm flesh to heave- Regina barks at her to calm down. Pointing to the bed, she commands the blonde to take a seat, but she simply rolls her eyes when this request goes- predictably- ignored. Perching on plush covers herself, she looks up at the Sheriff in frustration, inwardly thanking her heart for having reclaimed its regular rhythm.

"...Did you hurt yourself just now?"

"No."

"Then why are you standing like that?"

"... This is just how I fucking stand, alright?!"

Rolling her eyes at the blonde's childish petulance, Regina shrugs; deciding that if Emma isn't going to admit that her collision with the cupboard door is why she now cradles her elbow tellingly, she isn't going to lose any sleep over it.

"I _had_ to tell her... And you _know_ that, so desist glaring at me!"

"How do you know!? She could have just gone _away_... She could have just... I don't... I don't want to go to dinner... Not as your... You know..."

Sighing, Regina nods, her lips forming a hard line.

"I've noticed."

"Look...Can't you just say that I don't, uh, 'deserve' to come down or something?...Please, Regina?"

Shaking her head slowly, the brunette adopts a stern tone; trying to stamp out the curious sense of empathy washing over her without invitation.

"You need to come down. When was the last time you ate something?"

"I'm fine..."

The blonde's response is uncertain, and she realises with sardonic humor that this may not entirely be the case. She supposes the continual nervous adrenaline of the past couple of days has numbed her to her more basic needs; hunger never before being something she has allowed to slip her attention. On the contrary, she has frequently found herself the begrudging butt of Mary Margaret's jokes due to the schoolteacher no longer having any need for her left-overs tupperware since inviting the younger woman to move in with her.

"Well, that may be, but it won't be the case for long... I could count your ribs should I desire to."

The Sheriff's responding scowl to such thinly veiled- _surprising_ \- concern is short-lived; replaced swiftly by a deep blush as she crosses her arms primly over her chest, her expression understandably irritable. Sighing, Regina plucks the recently discarded throw from the bed and holds it out to the blonde, who gives in to her stubborn nature after a brief moment's hesitation and walks stiffly towards the bed.

"Thank you..."

Shrugging, the Queen regards the younger woman pensively as Emma perches uncertainly on the edge of the bed and pulls the itchy material tightly to her slim frame.

"I can't believe the fucking _Mayor's_ seen me naked..."

Muttering beneath her breath, the blonde jumps when Regina lets out a wry chuckle.

"Well, I'm not exactly _thrilled_ by the situation either, dear."

"Yeah... Well..."

Smirking as the Sheriff struggles to find a suitably snide retort, the Mayor rises from the bed and moves to sit before a large vanity mirror; a little uncomfortable being sat so close to the younger woman as they fall into an uneasy silence. Regarding Emma though the glass, she frowns, wondering whether she should mention the absurd behavior displayed by the Sea Witch's own subordinates at the last meal shared with the hateful woman, or whether such things would be better left for the blonde to discover of her own accord.

"Emma..."

The Sheriff glances up to meet her eyes through the glass; the cautious note in the older woman's tone catching both of them by surprise.

"Uhuh?"

"When we go down there... I need you to promise you'll beha-"

"-Behave myself, yeah, _alright already_! I know!"

"...No matter what."

"Haven't I already proved I can be trusted?!"

"... It's not about _trust_ , dear... At least, not about my trust in you. You need to understand that the only reason I told Ursula where you were is because the ramifications should she have found out of her own accord- and she _would_ have found out- could have been- _would_ have been- a much less desirable fate. Just as you must understand that, no matter _what_ transpires over dinner, I mean you no harm."

"... I know that. It's what I keep _saying_ -"

"-Yes, but such emotions are subject to change once placed in a less controlled environment..."

"...Ok, What is it you're not telling me, Regina?"

"... How do you mean?"

"I mean quit with the vague statements, and tell me whatever it is you know about this goddamned dinner arrangement!"

"I don't know _anything_... One must simply never presume-"

"-Oh, _fuck_ 'one'! Come _on_ , Regina... "

"Miss Swan-"

"- _Please_... I... If I know what to expect, at least I can kind of get my head around it..."

"... I don't know what to tell you, Emma."

"Bullshit..."

"I really _don't_! All I can say is that... Whatever happens down there- however uncomfortable Ursula decides to make things- you need to keep your mind firmly locked on the fact that both you and I are playing a _part_ ; a _scene_. We _both_ want to go home, as does your mother. If anything... Happens... That you don't like, you just have to grin and bear it, you understand? You lose it down there at me in _any_ way at all... She'll know something's not right."

I _know_ that."

"I just need to be certain."

"Fine... And, I meant it by the way..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"About knowing you're not out to screw me over- not till we get _home_ at least- Ha!... I just... I'm sitting here fucking _naked_ , okay? Or as good as... I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm tired, my nerves are shot to shit, I want my mom, I want my kid, I want my _bed_... I know you probably think I'm a brat, but that's pretty much all there is to say... I'm _miserable_ , but for once in the past however many months, it's not because of _you_... And I welcome that! We might not always see eye to eye or whatever, but I wish you'd stop reminding me you're on my side for now, because I don't just _know_ it, I'm fucking _counting_ on it! But... Please... I know you think all _sorts_ of things about my, uh, 'private life', as you've made so _delightfully_ clear in the past, but the whole... 'Bitch' thing? _Not_ something that I'm skilled at, nor wish to be... I mean... I know you have no _actual_ interest in me _obviously._.. But... It's still kind of..."

"It is what it is, Emma."

The brunette sniffs, not willing to continue this peculiar strain of conversation, especially as the Sheriff seems hellbent on remaining as awkward with her verbal approach as ever.

_Well, she's right though, isn't she? You have no interest in her... Why should you find the topic to be so uncomfortable?_

_... Because it's something that doesn't bear thinking about._

"-my best..."

"Excuse me?"

The Queen snaps, a little unnecessarily, as she is pulled from her thoughts by the Sheriff's low drawl. She refuses to acknowledge the minute pang of guilt Emma's responding hurt frown demands.

"I... I said I'd try my best..."

"Oh... Well...Yes...You know, dinner won't be for a little while yet... I had planned on using the time to try and harness a little more control over my magic-"

The brunette resists the urge to smirk as Emma nods along as though she has the faintest clue how it all works, and instead carries on in a neutral tone which belies the kindness lacing her words.

"- But I can do so on the grounds. I'll seal the door when I leave... You should warm up and get some rest."

"...Thank you."

* * *

"Come on, hurry up!"

The brunette snaps at the younger woman who pads nervously behind her. Since returning to her room and shaking the Sheriff awake- the blonde so deeply asleep she had remained oblivious to the loud rumble of the Queen's voice- she has responded to Emma's sleepy questions and remarks with curt annoyance; her nerves getting the better of her and her mouth tasting hatefully of copper.

She supposes it allows her a chance to fall into character.

Leading the way to the Sea Witch's lair in which she had previously shared a meal with the hateful woman, Regina pauses at the door long enough to offer a final warning glance back at Emma, before raising her hand to knock lightly for admittance.

* * *

"Help yourself, precious."

The Sea Queen drawls, her jewel encrusted fingers fluttering over the vast array of food laid out on the table. Regina struggles to acknowledge this, her attention continually drawn with nauseous unease to the bowl that rests close to her feet. The odor expelled by the unidentifiable mess within is putrid, and she silently awards the Sheriff a small amount of respect as the younger woman refrains from gagging audibly at her unfortunate level, knelt beside the Mayor's chair.

A few more uneasy glances and she imagines she recognizes the heap of grey and red for what it is.

_You sick, twisted, wretched woman. You're feeding her the remains of the little display you forced her to witness?!_

The low whine she can make out from beside her suggests she isn't alone in having discerned the source of the foulness piled within the bowl.

"Something wrong, dearest?"

The Witch inquires, and the brunette notes with growing distaste that the two pale souls sat beside their mistress devour their share of the bloodied remains silently. Shaking her head, she forces herself to look up from the disturbing scene being played out on the floor and smiles thinly at the older woman, delicately stacking her plate with the luxurious spoils that weigh heavily down on the table.

"Not at all."

_Don't you eat that, Emma. Don't you let her make you think you have to go that far..._

She imagines- having suffered the full extent of the blonde's stubborn nature- that the Sheriff will do no such thing. It goes against all of her warnings littered down upon the younger woman since arriving in this loathesome realm, but the reality of just what the Witch is expecting disgusts her and she is unwilling to play witness to such cruelty.

 _Even if it_ is _just Emma._

Such emotions aside, she finds her gaze flickering repeatedly down to the blonde who kneels silently beside her chair. Emma sits level with her feet, and Regina is unable to view her expression from her current position; her vision falling to pale shoulder blades and painfully tangled curls instead. It is enough to cause her disquiet however, as she is sure that the Sheriff's spine and rib-cage are a little more pronounced than they had been when playing nurse to the younger woman upon her arrival to this realm.

_Well, she is a slim girl as it is... And given the amount of junk she usually works her way through, such a lack of nourishment will be taking its toll._

Striving to shrug such thoughts away, she picks at the shrimp that sit succulent on her plate with pursed lips.

_Suddenly I find I am no longer hungry..._

This thought isn't shared by the blonde who struggles to keep from dry heaving as she looks miserably down at the mess in front of her. The smell only acts as a simple catalyst to the horrors her mind offers her, and she suffers an overwhelming urge to break. To crack. To flee the room and wait out whatever punishment such an act would garner. She has always been keen on gore and slasher fiction, but the display put on for her benefit today weighs heavily on her mind, and to sit so close to putrid remains- with the looming idea of having to _devour_ such carnage- has her head spinning nauseously.

_And yet..._

She wishes the brunette hadn't made her small remark in regards to when she'd last eaten. She knows it is no more Regina's fault than the idea is rational, but she is _certain_ that it was immediately after the words left pleasantly full lips that her stomach had begun clenching painfully; past the point of simple hunger, as though punishing her for her negligence.

She is not typically one to pay a little pain much mind- nor one to give in to something she doesn't wish to do- but as a vicious bolt of agony shoots through her gut, she leans forwards slightly with a silent groan, vaguely aware that she's perspiring as though suffering a fever.

_I can't... I can't... I can't..._

"Your girl refuses to eat..."

Ursula's words seem as though they come from far away to the blonde, but to the Mayor they herald her rigidly alert. Glancing down at Emma and the despicable offering in the bowl before her, she sniffs as though disinterested, shrugging amiably at the older woman.

"Then she will go hungry."

The Witch smirks wickedly at this, and Regina feels a pang of sympathy as she imagines the younger woman really must be feeling famished by now. Still... There is no way the blonde is going to eat what she has been offered, and in this unique instance, the Queen has no trouble backing her on this stubborn decision.

_I warned you to respect me and to play along... But if that hateful woman imagines for a second that she can-_

Such thoughts taper off into numb disbelief as dark coals regard the Sheriff wearily as shaking hands dip tentatively into slick viscera. Opening her mouth- not sure whether to gasp or scream at the woman kneeling at her feet to cease whatever cruel joke she seems to be playing- only a small, unintelligible noise escapes her lips, and she shakes her head slowly.

Snapping from her frozen shock as she observes a silent shudder- so reminiscent of a sob- rack through the younger woman's slender frame as the latter raises her gore streaked fingers to her lips, she barks angrily, causing both the Sheriff and the Witch to jump.

_I won't let it come to this. No. There's simply no way._

"Of course, one might also find issue with the fact that the little harlot has been invited to dinner and yet refuses to behave with anything but insolence!"

She is dimly aware that her voice shakes slightly, but she banks on the hope that this goes unnoticed by the despicable woman opposite her. Grabbing a handful of messy curls with trembling fingers, she pulls the blonde up onto her feet clumsily; Emma reacting with little grace as she struggles to comprehend exactly what is required of her.

"Perhaps she imagines she is still a princess and that she is too good for such gruel...?"

Ursula remarks with caustic sweetness, her eyes glittering dangerously as she drinks in the scene the younger women offer.

Taking inspiration from the disturbing note of desire evident in the Sea Queen's tone, Regina smirks sordidly, looking up at the Sheriff with a carefully malicious smile.

"Do you, dear? Do you consider yourself too good for what our host has so graciously offered you?"

Emma regards her with wary confusion, her face pale and her mouth drawn. Silently willing the younger woman to get a grip and pull herself together, the Mayor takes advantage of the Sheriff's lack of sass to offer up her own.

"Well then, if you _insist_ on deluding yourself that you are still a princess, I suppose I'll just have to _treat_ you like a princess..."

Clenching her jaw with carefully hidden distaste, she pulls at the younger woman's skinny waist, dragging the blonde onto her lap with a grimace as bare flesh presses against her hotly. The Sheriff squirms uncomfortably, green eyes wide as she twists to study the brunette in disbelief, but a firm pinch at her side has her stilling warily; lowering her gaze down to her lap so as to avoid having to look either woman in the eye.

The action has her long hair cascading down over her slim frame demurely, veiling her face in a way the Mayor refuses to admit she finds curiously intriguing.

Plucking a small parcel filled with some sort of cream and scallops from her plate, Regina takes a deep breath before adopting a slow smile and raising it to the blonde's lips; keeping the nails of the hand hidden beneath the table pressed deliberately into the warm flesh of the younger woman's thigh lest she decide to react with anything but good grace.

At first, she is unsure if the blonde will accept her offering- nails digging cruelly into pale skin or not- but after a period of disobedient refusal to acknowledge the morsel held out to her, the Sheriff gives in and leans forward tentatively; hating the role she adheres to, but understanding its requirements all the same.

_What the fuck are you doing!? Seriously?!_

Seriously. Just as the Witch sat watching her from across the table is not to be argued with, neither is the pain gnawing at her belly.

She is stubborn... But she is anything but stupid.

She needs to eat.

She _wants_ to be strong, yes... But she _needs_ to eat.

Her teeth brush against the Mayor's thumb and she tenses as she feels rather than hears the sharp intake of breath this garners from the darker woman. Mistaking this reaction for irritation, the blonde draws back swiftly, her cheeks rouging just a little. The brunette, however, spies the sick satisfaction crossing the Witch's face and keeps her fingers where they are; remnants of cream and pastry marring perfect skin.

_You can't be serious..._

The Sheriff's incredulous reaction upon realising the brunette keeps her fingers extended to be cleaned is thwarted before she can let it show, as sharp nails claw painfully at her thigh. Breath coming just a little quicker, she swallows, before leaning forward once more and tasting the Mayor delicately; sharp tongue flickering against soft whorls before she gives in to her wariness and allows Regina to slip a finger between her lips.

_Fuck... Oh fuck... Oh-_

"-No!"

Unable to keep her emotions under control, the blonde pulls away, shuddering; the intrusion of Regina's fingers dancing playfully against her tongue entirely obscene. Her reaction is met with a raised eyebrow from across the table, and the Witch lets out a cruel laugh as she regards the Mayor with a smirk.

"So ill-behaved... I had expected better discipline from you, child...But you are proving weak..."

Her words are disturbingly reminiscent of the brunette's mother, and the Queen growls as she pulls roughly on tangled tresses and bites at the pale flesh of the younger woman's throat. It is a spontaneous action. Raw. Aggressive. Dominant. Garnering both a choked cry from the Sheriff and a low hum of approval from Ursula. Her mind black with adrenaline and irritation, the brunette runs her tongue up to the sharp line of the blonde's jaw before pulling back and using her violent grip on long curls to force the younger woman to look at her.

"How dare you embarrass me in such a way!? I am taking notes of your insubordination, girl, and you best believe I'm going to make you pay later... You can count on it..."

The Sheriff's expression is so close to vacant with shock that the brunette fears for a second that the woman in her lap will simply crumble, but then a spark of irritation glints at her from behind cool green, before the blonde's shoulders slump as she mutters quietly

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty..."

Silently wishing- despite all the commotion and nervous energy- she could have recorded the words falling so sheepishly from soft lips, Regina allows herself a secretive smirk. Taking advantage of what is a tense expectancy of her dominance, she goes on to pluck another morsel from her plate, once more feeding it to the younger woman, eventually allowing herself to fall more solidly into the role and releasing her grip to the Sheriff's thigh as the younger woman plays warily along.

By the time the plates are cleared from the extravagant table, the Sheriff's hunger has been mercifully sated and the nauseous rigidity to her slim limbs has dissipated.

She follows the Queen from the room with her head bowed obediently.

* * *

"Holy shit..."

Emma laughs nervously when they finally reach the privacy of the brunette's bedroom. Her mirth is little more than a masquerade and Regina shakes her head as she paces the room; rubbing the fingers of the hand used to feed the blonde repetitively on her skirt.

"Quite..."

"That was... I mean..."

"Yes..."

"I, uh..."

"Shut up."

There is little malice to the Queen's tone, simply a weary fatigue. Keeping her gaze pointedly from the younger woman's bare frame, she takes a seat on the bed and smooths out an invisible crease on one of the pillows with absurd diligence. Her act is thwarted somewhat when Emma refuses to do as she's told.

"So... What now?"


	24. Chapter 24

_"So... What now?"_

Looking up at the blonde cautiously, Regina frowns, adopting a tone a little more nonchalant than she truly feels.

"...What do you mean?"

"Well..."

Emma shrugs awkwardly, toying with her long hair in an attempt to tease it into covering her up better. Keeping her gaze trained on the brunette, she simply waits as the Queen regards her intently; becoming ever so slightly nervous when dark eyes seem to glitter wickedly. Finally dropping her own so that she looks down at the fraying bandage covering her elbow, she fidgets with loose gauze distractedly, her voice low as she strives to banish the sudden memory of cruel teeth grazing her throat.

She wonders if the darker woman has left her mark.

"Like... Are we going to bed now or what?"

Letting out a low breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding in following the blonde's erroneous question, Regina tosses her hair back briskly, adopting a tone much closer to her normal rich timbre.

"Why, is it getting to be past your bedtime, dear?"

Surprising the brunette when she opts to play along with the snide cattiness lacing her inquiry, Emma simply nods, yawning dramatically, before offering a small smile.

"Getting there, yeah; I'm going to start getting cranky if you don't watch out!"

"God, you're just like Henry-"

Stilling abruptly as she comes to the realisation of what she's just said, Regina throws the Sheriff a poisonous look as though accusing the younger woman for this verbal slip up.

Emma merely shrugs.

"I'm just beat... Dinner was, uh, pretty intense..."

The frown this statement garners from the Queen softens slightly when green eyes flicker up to meet brown apologetically and the blonde offers up a nervous grin.

"Well... If you'd been better behaved..."

Similarly, the anger that alights the Sheriff's features at these words dissipates into a simple rolling of her eyes as Regina allows a small smile to grace full lips.

_How curious that we should be joking with one another in such a way..._

"I suppose getting some sleep would be a wise idea, Miss Swan."

Rising from the bed and locating the brush that rests on the vanity in the corner, the Queen glances back up at the younger woman when the latter proceeds to simply stand awkwardly against the wall and raises an eyebrow in question.

"Can I help you, dear?"

"Well I... I mean... Am I... Am I sleeping here?... With you?"

Sighing as she ponders- not for the first time- the way the Sheriff's perpetual clumsiness with her tongue only serves to make an awkward situation that much worse, Regina places the brush back on the table, fluffing her dark hair fussily.

"I would have thought so... But it's up to you."

"But I... I mean, I'm..."

Failing to finish off her sentence, the blonde simply clears her throat and gestures at herself with a flick of her wrist.

_Naked... And there's only one bed..._

"Yes, I'm quite aware of your current lack of attire, dear. It's hard to miss."

Despite this curt response, Regina slowly comes to the realisation that she herself possesses just the one outfit, and, while in a slightly more fortuitous position than the younger woman, she had slept the previous evening in just her lingerie for comfort. Cheeks rouging a little as she sniffs irritably, she finds she has a hard time not blaming Emma for the way things are currently not quite going to plan.

 _It_ is _habit after all._

Stalking over to the dresser beside the door, she decides that one of the things she will look forward to most about returning home- not counting seeing Henry, of course- is to be back in possession of her own wardrobe; borrowing another woman's things making her feel uncomfortable at best. As she plucks at the various wisps of fabric, she senses the younger woman padding up behind her and turns to face her with a frown.

"I wasn't looking for _you_..."

"But-"

"-Miss Swan... You can't borrow clothes belonging to the Sea Queen. I would have hoped _that_ much would be _obvious_ to you..."

"Then can you give me something of yours? Please?!"

"My dear, do _you_ recall packing a suitcase upon our departure from your mother's castle? Because _I_ most certainly do not."

"Regina..."

The Sheriff huffs irritably in response to the brunette's caustic sarcasm, but she proceeds to retreat to the bed and perch upon its plush covers in sullen silence.

Opting for a deep indigo shift, the Queen drapes soft fabric over her arm and heads towards the small door at the very end of the room which leads to a grand en-suite bathroom. As she passes Emma, she sighs, offering the younger woman a tired glance.

"You'll be more comfortable once beneath the covers..."

"I know. But-"

"- Just give your mouth a rest for once and get into bed, Miss Swan."

Her tone is dismissive; not wishing to engage in a conversation which may vocalize the obscurity as to their current predicament. She is less than impressed at the thought of sharing her bed with the younger woman, but she knows that sending the blonde away isn't an option. She is almost _positive_ that such a command would be one of the few which Emma would adhere to without much fuss out of mere pride, but she refuses to find out whether her suspicions are founded.

 _As you said yourself, dear, we may not always see eye to eye... But I will_ not _stoop to such despicable treatment._

Besides, it's not as though she hasn't had to share a bed with the Sheriff before. The thought is a strange one- particularly as in both instances Emma's attire has been lacking to say the least- and she finds she is unable to push it away with the same ease with which she often discards those things she doesn't wish to dwell on.

Slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her- sliding across the lock for good measure- she studies herself in the mirror that overlooks a large, shell basin warily. She is acutely aware of the similarities between this occasion and the last time the blonde had played her bed-mate, but she deduces that she looks in a much better state at present than she had previously... And there is something peculiarly comforting in knowing that the Sheriff sits in bed woeful, but not wounded.

_No, not wounded._

_But marked?... Yes._

She has found it hard since retiring to her bed chamber not to stare at the small, purple bruise at the younger woman's throat; her body reacting in a most peculiar way when viewing the result of her punishment, becoming hot and flushed as though with fever. She imagines that Emma will later litter her with irritable remarks upon discovering the bite-mark for herself, but the Sheriff's annoyance weighs little on her mind.

_Well, if she wasn't so fantastically pale, she would have less cause to fuss._

She shakes her head swiftly as thoughts of the blonde's alabaster flesh, marred by the delicate bow of her clavicles, begs her mind to travel further south; such a sight- through no fault of her own- no longer a mystery.

"Stop pondering such things, dear; you are allowing the Witch to play with your mind."

Really? Is that really the case? True, she had played her role exceptionally well down at the dinner table, indicating a sort of sick infatuation with the little idiot, but it had been a _ruse_. An _act_.

The very idea that she should even _consider_ the younger woman's appeal is utterly ridiculous.

_I would be hard put to find any note of 'appeal'' in the Sheriff at all!_

She smirks at this, but it is a half-hearted expression; her mind flashing her the disturbingly unwarranted image of the blonde sat in the topiary garden of her mother's castle, snowflakes bejewelling thick golden curls like diamonds.

She abruptly splashes her face with water.

* * *

When the brunette returns to the bedroom, she finds the Sheriff peering up at her sleepily as she lies curled up in bed facing the bathroom door. The younger woman's hair covers the majority of her face in a tangled nightmare, but curious green glitters in amusement with irritating clarity. Regina purses her lips and stalks over to the chair by the vanity to lay her clothes carefully over its high back.

"If you _dare_ laugh, Miss Swan, I will have you locked outside that door so fast you won't know what hit you."

The heaped throw that engulfs the Sheriff vibrates tellingly, but Emma sensibly forbids any sound from escaping her lips. In all honesty, she is more intrigued than she is maliciously amused. She imagines that, had anyone else emerged clad in the thin, cotton shift the Queen now wears, they would have looked ludicrously childlike. As it is, Regina manages to maintain a disconcertingly regal air despite the soft indigo brushing her thighs being so very reminiscent of a young girl's nightie.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Hmm, I'm sure..."

"I wouldn't! I'd hate to add to that _list_ you're making..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Of all my insubordinations."

Again, the soft material that covers the Sheriff trembles with her silent laughter and the brunette sighs disdainfully, despite the strange little flip her stomach gives as the blonde draws out her last word with purposeful sordidness. Slipping briskly beneath the covers and eliminating the lights with a flick of her wrist, she keeps meticulously close to the edge of her side of the bed as she snipes back

"There's not enough notepaper in the world for such a task."

Dark eyes widen in the shadows as a sharp movement from her left would suggest to the Mayor that Emma had just attempted kicking her beneath the covers. She tries to tell herself that she is mistaken; that the younger woman had done no such thing... Either way, she is relieved that the blonde's foot failed to make contact with her own as she is unsure of just how she would have reacted to such an assault.

"Watch your hip, dear."

"... Oh... Okay... It's not so bad now, actually."

"That's good."

"...Yeah."

Silence draws out heavily between them, and the Queen begins to imagine that the Sheriff has fallen asleep; just able to make out the pale slope of the younger woman's shoulder and the soft curve of her spine through the shadows. Closing her own eyes and turning away from the blonde, she attempts to banish all thought from her mind and strives to greet the Sandman.

She is almost successful, too, before the younger woman whispers quietly

"Thank you, Regina."

The brunette's eyes shoot open; her lashes inexplicably wet.

The Sheriff doses off, oblivious; certain that the Queen has been taken by sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

_Scarlet lips claim soft pink dominantly, before beginning a wet trail of descent down white flesh laced with the translucent blue of vulnerable veins; vital beneath the surface. Sharp white teeth close down mercilessly an inch above the narrow ridge of a delicate clavicle, increasing their sordid pressure until sweet copper spills out over a velvet tongue, causing both parties to groan._

_Skilled fingers find silken folds as spilt blood is dragged hotly down the soft ripple of a sternum and sharp nails find the other's wounded throat; scratching cruelly before slim fingers enclose around that slender column with a heated sense of danger._

_The speed with which the southern intrusion takes place increases ruthlessly, and taut limbs begin to tremble as kiss-swollen lips emit a harsh cry..._

In the darkness of the Queen's bedroom, the blonde's eyes shoot open as she clamps a hand hastily over her mouth; the curious choked noise she makes muffled by her fingers.

_What the actual fuck!?_

Allowing herself a moment as she strives to still harsh breaths and the frantic beating of her heart, she blinks childishly until her surroundings merge into an indigo maze of shadow and moonlight. Twisting slowly onto her side, she studies the sleep-serene features of the darker woman's face with a frown, her eyes lingering on gently parted lips before she gives herself a mental shake and falls quietly back down into her pillow; regarding the ceiling with an expression of numb shock.

 _That was... I mean... That was_ Regina _..._

She is sure of it, despite the fact that she is unable to recall the dream woman's face. There had been something in the sheer power, and the obscure passion within the other woman which leaves her in no doubt.

"Oh my god..."

She whispers, slinging her arm over her eyes as she continues to try and get her thoughts under control. It's not so much the sapphic nature of the dream that has her thrown- she's lived a colourful life, and has done her fair share of experimenting- but rather the fact that it is the brunette who had played her partner.

_That is some majorly messed up shit, Swan..._

"Well if it wasn't for fucking _Ursula_..."

Quite. If it wasn't for the Sea Witch instilling such preposterous fancies into her skull, there's no way she ever would have conceived of such a scenario.

Not even subconsciously.

Never.

She nods distractedly, as if affirming such thoughts to herself as she strives to ignore the existence of the warm thrum between her legs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Grumbling, she plays her fingers over the tender bruise just above her collarbone idly. She sighs, sure that there must be some form of visible mark there due to the sharp twinge created by the natural salt of her fingertips brushing over fragile flesh. Ordinarily, her first reaction upon discovering such a resultant mark would have her seething angrily- not one to advocate advertising one's sordid activities to the world- but she finds that rather than fury or embarrassment, she simply feels a dreadful awkwardness.

She is sure she blushes madly in the dark.

"Get a grip..."

She mutters, rolling irritably onto her side and shuffling as far away as possible from her oblivious bed-mate. Her mind continues to race; begging the ridiculous question of whether or not she finds the Mayor to be attractive, to be desirable, to be of interest. Such thoughts only serve to frustrate her more with their sheer ludicrousness.

Unlike Regina, she herself has never so much harbored a true _dislike_ for the other woman, but rather a distaste for the way in which she has been treated on numerous occasions. As such, she doesn't struggle with the idea of having to face the fact she may have some form of peculiar fondness- _no... not fondness, perhaps... But a_ liking _, for sure_ \- for the often infuriating brunette in the same way the Queen has had to deal with her increasingly positive feelings in regards to the blonde.

She owes a lot to the darker woman.

It's not _just_ that though... She has secretly enjoyed their petty bickering during the time spent so far away from Storybrooke. True, it could be a case of such altercations acting as a simple cure for any potential homesickness- Regina's dripping disdain at the majority of her words and actions about as familiar as the deathlike shrieking of the springs of her bed back at the apartment- but she supposes the _reason_ doesn't really matter.

She is growing to quite enjoy the Queen's company.

And it's not as though the darker woman is _unattractive_... No, quite the opposite.

_Will you quit it! What the hell's wrong with you!? Take a mental cold shower and stop this madness before you hurt yourself!_

Striving stubbornly for sleep, she angrily forbids herself from thinking on the matter any longer; refusing to allow the Witch's sick games to mess with her head.

* * *

There probably only exists a space of about five seconds between the dull knock at the door and the Sea Queen entering of the brunette's bed chambers, and the darker woman will later think that, had she not been on the verge of waking, things could have turned out very differently.

As it is, the muffled sound of Ursula's heavy fist brushing the door rouses her swiftly, possibly due to a disconcerting sense of disorientation she feels when she notices warm flesh pressed against her own. Casting a bleary glance down to her left, she frowns at the Sheriff who lies curled up neatly beside her; bare shins pressing against her thigh.

_Shit_

Eyes widening as her brain thankfully kicks into gear, she grabs the younger woman's shoulder roughly and shakes her, before coming to the realization that she has little time for Emma to grace the here and now with her conscious presence. Securing a better grip on slender limbs, she pushes ruthlessly, sending the blonde toppling from the bed with a cry of surprise.

"Shut up!"

It is a low hiss as the Mayor re-positions herself in the middle of the bed, but- _incredibly_ \- it works; Emma blinking back shocked tears at the sharp bite of pain emanating from her bruised tailbone as the Sea Witch enters the room.


	26. Chapter 26

"Marvelous, you're awake."

Ursula drawls huskily as her eyes linger on thin, indigo cotton and the pert flesh it does little to hide. Regina pulls the heavy covers that pool about her waist up to cover herself primly, unable to hide the cold bite to her tone the Sea Witch's open perversion has garnered.

"Good morning..."

Ice-ridden words go unnoticed, as the Sea Queen's attention falls to the blonde who remains sprawled beside the bed. She lies awkwardly on her back, propped up on her elbows, allowing fear-filled green to dart about the large woman's buxom frame frantically.

It's not the Sheriff's _eyes_ in which Ursula's interests currently lie however; tongue protruding to wet thick lips as she drinks in pale thighs littered with the delicate flowers of healing bruises, splayed almost wantonly in the blonde's current position. The ruined scrap of the younger woman's underwear serves more to tease than to offer her any modesty; the tattered fabric all but begging to be ripped away once and for all.

"And a good morning to you, sweetness."

The Witch directs her words towards the brunette, but offers the Sheriff a coy wink which doesn't go unnoticed by either of the younger two women.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

Hooded orbs lock with green and the blonde takes in a sharp breath as she is abruptly reminded of her dream starring the glowering brunette sat on the bed above her; inexplicably sure that Ursula can see right into her mind and that the Witch knows _exactly_ what sordid images had awoken her during the night.

The Sea Queen smirks knowingly as Emma hastily lowers her eyes to the floor; pale cheeks pinkening prettily.

"Not at all, Your Majesty, I had only just awoken... May I help you at all?"

Regina's words are laced with brittle discomfort; not liking the predatory way the Witch looks down at the younger woman one bit.

Even if it _is_ only Emma.

"Help? No, darling, I require no assistance... At least, not at present. No, I merely wished to stop by in person to inform you of the gala that will be held in the great ballroom tomorrow evening. I am currently the recipient of royal guests other than yourself as you may have heard, and the evening has been planned for some time now in celebration of their visit. I apologise, as it is for this reason that the matter of getting you and your spoils home is taking a little longer then you had perhaps expected, but I am nothing if not a gracious host, and these things are, unfortunately, not to be neglected due to unforeseen circumstances."

"Of course not, I understand. I am merely grateful that you would agree to help me at all..."

"Your mother was a dear friend, precious."

"And she was lucky to have a friend in yourself, I am sure."

"You are kind."

"I simply speak the truth, Your Majesty."

The words feel slick and nauseating as they drip from her tongue, but the Mayor forces herself to smile, while repeating over and over in her mind that her act is simply a means to an end. She is relieved that the blonde has so far kept her mouth shut, and only prays that this small notice is the Witch's only reason for visiting.

"You must come down, my darling, and meet my guests. I would find it most pleasurable should you attend."

"... I would be delighted to."

"Splendid!"

Ursula claps her thick-fingered hands together in a perversely childlike fashion, dark eyes glittering piggishly as she offers the brunette a simpering smile.

"Oh, how droll! I will have you escorted down to the east wing to find something fitting to wear after lunch tomorrow. I am still in possession of a great array of garments owned by the girls who once paid me company. I'm sure you will find something in your size, dear one."

_Owned by the girls who once paid you company?_

_Delphine?_

_Stop this. Thinking upon the matter will get you nowhere._

"That is most kind of you..."

"Not at all, sweetheart, not at all... I will look forward to it."

With that, Ursula takes her leave, fluttering bejewelled fingers as she slips out into the hallway, leaving Regina to mull over her words with a frown.

"...Nothing changes, it's always the pretty, popular girls who get invited to the parties."

Emma's sarcastic drawl has the brunette jumping in surprise and she glares down at the younger woman angrily, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly when she takes in the blonde's position.

" _Must_ you lie that way?"

Glancing down at herself and realising that she lies with her legs casually splayed and her hair tumbling down her back thus providing no cover, Emma curls up sheepishly, moving so that she sits with her knees drawn up in front of her chest with a small wince.

"Are you alright?"

"Apart from being pretty sure you've shattered my tailbone in your haste to get me out of bed, then yes."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Regina snaps, despite feeling a small twinge of concern.

 _After all, if_ anyone _should recognise the feeling of shattering one's bones it's her..._

 _Yes, but if_ anyone _should make insufferable, irrelevant comments, I believe Miss Swan would be the primary contender also._

"You're fine."

"Yes, doctor."

Rolling her eyes, the Queen sighs, watching expressionlessly as Emma reaches for the woollen throw that now lies forlorn beside the bed and wraps herself up before moving so that she sits with her back rested against the wall, her long hair tumbling over the thick fabric chaotically.

"So it looks like you're going to be mingling with the elite tomorrow..."

Whatever caustic teasing she had meant to inject into her tone falls flat, her brow furrowing instead as she nibbles nervously at her lip.

"... Are you going to be alright?"

Well kept brows arch in surprise, before the brunette answers pensively.

"I imagine so. I have played both host and guest at a great many galas and soirees in my time... They are invariably frightfully dull and involve a lot of heated gossip falling from liquored lips. My greatest fear is that I shall die due to boredom."

She sniffs arrogantly, but doesn't kid herself that she's fooled the Sheriff in the slightest; the younger woman offering her an awkward shrug and laying the topic hesitantly to rest.

"I guess it's going to be a while before she helps us then..."

"... I'm afraid so."

"I, uh... I'm not gonna lie; I'm itching to get out of here, you know? She's fucking creepy-"

"-hush, dear."

"What?! Like you-"

"- _Emma_!... You need to learn to keep such opinions to yourself... Not because they aren't _understood_ , but because you risk the possibility of them being _overheard_."

"... You think she's listening?"

The blonde's hushed whisper is so similar to Henry's in its ridiculous extravagance, the brunette finds herself rolling her eyes with a peculiar fondness masquerading as irritability.

"I think it's best you keep quiet more _often_... I'd urge you to continue this same caution once we get home also."

"Oh, bite me."

A light blush follows these words as pale fingers whisper against bruised flesh of their own accord and the Mayor looks swiftly away.

"... Guess that's gonna be... too..."

"Excuse me?"

Regina barks with unnecessary venom as the Sheriff mutters inaudibly. She sighs; telling herself to refrain from doing this quite so often as it only serves to garner her that hateful doe-eyed look of hurt which doesn't seem to suit the Sheriff's features at all.

"I didn't catch that..."

Lower. Kinder.

Emma shrugs moodily, her eyes downcast to her knees which peek palely from the folds of the throw; the bandage to the left one fraying and filthy.

"It doesn't matter."

"No, go on."

"I just... I want to see my mom."

Soft lips form that ever familiar hard line as the younger woman looks up and readies herself for snide ridicule.

"Oh."

"I just... I need to see her, you know... I know _you_ probably don't... But... Would it be okay if we went up there? Please?"

Regina frowns at the sudden earnest in the blonde's expression and she understands that this is something the Sheriff has been building up the nerve to ask for some time now.

She wonders just how long.

She wonders why Emma's mind works in such a peculiar fashion.

"Miss Swan..."

The hard line of the younger woman's mouth turns down at the corners and the brunette sighs, not accustomed to dealing with such matters with the patience she is currently trying to offer.

"You can't go up there..."

"Not on my own, I know, but if you went and took me with you... I'll be good, I promise. I'll, like, walk behind you or whatever... I just... She's my best friend and I'm worried about her... I know you said she's fine... But... She's my... My..."

"... She's your mother."

"Well, yeah... And I know you probably think that would be a stupid reason for me to want to see her given as we've never really-"

"- I think nothing of the sort. What I _do_ think is that while you view Miss Blanchard first and foremost as your friend, she herself views you as her daughter. More that that, though... You are her princess, however much you may despise the term... You can't go visit her... Not like this."

The Queen gives a graceful sweep of her hand to gesture towards the blonde's lack of attire.

"But-"

"-You will be doing her no favours going to her in your current state, Sheriff."

Preparing for the next words of argument from the younger woman, the brunette frowns in surprise when the blonde proceeds to simply open and close her mouth wordlessly before lowering her face onto her knees. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Regina searches for something to say; recognising the Sheriff's position as one of upset and distress, but not entirely sure her mind can comprehend these emotions being expressed by the Swan woman quite to early in the morning.

 _Where on earth did all_ this _suddenly come from?_

It is a half-hearted thought however, as she imagines she understands most of it even before Emma answers her question in a low drawl; muttering into the heavy wool that covers her legs as she refuses to look up at the Queen.

"I'm _sick_ of being in this 'state'. I don't want to _do_ this anymore... I never even used to get changed in the locker room at the _pool_ , and now everyone's looking at me and I don't want them to! Dinner was _embarrassing_ for me, okay? Probably for you too, but more so for me and I don't care how childish you think that sounds. _I'm_ the one that has to be naked and made fun of. I'm tired, and I don't feel all that good, and I just want Mary Margaret and I'm sorry because I know you've been trying really hard to be nice to me and that can't be easy of you, but I don't want _you_ to be nice to me. I want my... My mom."

The blonde's explanation is hard to understand, both due to the fact that her voice comes out in muffled bursts, and due to the fact that as she speaks her mannerisms become more and more childlike, leaving the Mayor feeling both irritated and concerned as she stares down at the heavy waterfall of curls that shroud the younger woman messily. She is entirely unaccustomed to dealing with Emma admitting defeat, but she has always recognised a sense of pride in the blonde that she can fully understand is currently being put to the ultimate test; something that she can empathise with all too easily.

_I've spent so long wishing for and working towards breaking the woman, and now that it's actually happening, I can't stand the sight._

"I can't let you take clothes belonging to Ursula..."

Silence.

Regina moves to the edge of the bed so as better to regard the Sheriff, taking in the motionless ball of wool and hair uncomfortably.

"You can't go to see her like this, Emma, you just can't... But..."

Closing her eyes as she makes her final decision, she places a brief prayer to any interested deity that she isn't going to royally regret extending such uncharacteristic kindness to the insufferable young woman, before glancing down at Emma once more and letting out a defeated sigh.

"...There _is_ another way..."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Possibly the most complicated chapter I've written as far as writing goes... Hope it works!!!

"...There _is_ another way..."

"...What?"

The blonde's response is more of a groan than a word and Regina sighs, debating whether she should lower herself from the bed to comfort the younger woman, but deciding in the end that there has to be a line drawn somewhere.

_Old habits die hard._

"... You can't go to Snow in your current state..."

"I know that... You just _told_ me that..."

Sullen. Muffled. Defeated.

"...Not in your _current_ state... But in _another_ state... In another _form_..."

Emma lifts her head slowly, resting her chin on her knees, her eyes slightly pink and the coarse pattern of the throw imprinted on her left cheek.

"...What?"

"Well, not only would it be highly inappropriate for you to seek out Snow when you look the way you currently do, but _you_ are not permitted to go up to the tower at _all_ without my accompaniment, and, clothed or not, I can only _imagine_ what your mother would have to say should we pay her a visit with you following me around like some poor, kicked, little puppy... _I_ , however, am neither nude, nor festering in a layer of grime and shame... And _I_ have the freedom to walk the halls and visit the tower without issue..."

"Are you... Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Well, I've deduced you not to be _entirely_ idiotic, so I would imagine so, yes."

"I... You can _do_ that?"

"I can."

"But... I mean...You _would_ do that, though?... For _me_?"

Regina sniffs arrogantly; thrown by Emma's open request for an answer to a question she had imagined both of them would rather avoid delving too deeply into.

"If it means I get an hour to myself while also giving you cause to hush your irritable fussing, then the benefits simply outweigh the-"

Freezing up rigidly, the brunette's eyes widen incredulously as the younger woman launches herself onto the bed; slim arms encircling shock-hunched shoulders as pale curls brush distractingly against her cheek.

"... _Really_ , Miss Swan..."

Clearing her throat awkwardly, the Queen pushes the Sheriff away with a gentleness that surprises even herself; a little panic stricken when Emma proceeds to wipe at her eyes tellingly as she perches beside her on the bed.

"I just offered to _help_ you... Why on earth are you _crying_?!"

"I'm not..."

"...You could have fooled me..."

"Shut up."

The blonde lets out an watery laugh as she mutters these last words, composing herself with a couple more swipes of the back of her hand over salted cheeks before turning to regard the Queen sheepishly.

"Sorry..."

Thinning her lips, Regina holds her breath in anticipation of a second attack as the younger woman leans towards her, but Emma simply neatens up the errant strands of chestnut which suffered the brunt of her sudden affection.

The blonde offers a shy smile, trying her best to keep the perplexing surge of emotion she feels heavy in her chest from spilling out onto the surface for both of their sakes. She is touched, not just that Regina should offer to help her in such an impossible way, but by _everything_ the brunette has done for her. She would never wish the position enforced upon her here in the Underwater Kingdom onto anyone, but she can't help but feel a small sense of sadness, as she imagines the Queen will never truly be able to comprehend just how much comfort she has provided since this madness first started... Regardless of their differences.

"I, uh... I'm...-"

"-Making a spectacle of yourself. Really, dear, I do hope you plan on behaving in a slightly more respectable manner given the imminent circumstances."

Despite these words, the Mayor extends a finger to wipe away an escaped tear which balances perilously at the sharp line of the blonde's jaw.

"No sobbing or rambling; got it..."

The Sheriff jokes, sniffing as she giggles.

"No sobbing, no rambling, no cussing, no 'Emma' antics-"

"-'Emma' antics?"

"Yes, none of those, thank you very much! _Should_ you get the innate urge to do something and find yourself wondering 'is this acceptable?'; it most likely isn't."

"Oh, come on, Regina-"

"-And you can wipe that stupid grin off your face, too. _You_ may be suffering from some form of emotional schizophrenia at present, but I myself struggle to find this situation all that amusing... Just... _Behave_. That's all I ask."

"...You know I will..."

" _Do_ I? That would be a first!"

The brunette sniffs irritably, though she recognises the sincerity written across the younger woman's face for what it is.

And she suppose she _does_ know that Emma will behave herself.

 _Try_ to behave herself anyway.

For if there is anything they have in common, it is their lack of having had those around them willing to extend a hand when it was needed, and she knows deep down that the blonde's giddy mirth is no more than a masquerade for her true emotions which had resulted in the brief loss of control leading her to offer up such an uninhibited embrace.

"I suppose time will tell..."

Rising from the bed in a businesslike fashion, she moves to stand before the Sheriff who suddenly looks decidedly ashen as she regards the Queen with wide eyes.

"...What do I do?"

" _You_ do nothing, dear, although I suppose you may wish to sit tight as I really don't need to witness myself stumbling about helplessly in your ever graceless manner."

Such a taunt receives none of the usual sarcasti response; the tension in the room almost tactile as the blonde closes her eyes with a nervous hum and simply waits.

"... Are you just going to sit there?"

"You just _said_ you didn't need me to do- _Holy shit_!"

The Sheriff winces as she bites her tongue in her haste to snap her mouth shut.

_No... Not my tongue... Regina's._

Taking in a couple of deep breaths- still not quite able to get over the rich timbre of her words- she peeks through sooty lashes tentatively before her eyes shoot open in shock and she lets out a choked cry.

" _Fuck!_ "

"Stop that!"

The words are delivered with Regina's patent disdain, but the lips from which they fall are pale and unmarked.

"You... you're..."

Wondering if she's about to lose whatever broken grip on sanity she still possesses, Emma simply closes her eyes again; childishly shutting out the madness.

"... Sheriff..."

"This is impossible..."

" _Do_ try to get a grip!"

"But you're... You're... Oh fuck me, this is crazy..."

"What did I _tell_ you about using that kind of language?"

"I kind of think it's _warranted_ , Regina!"

Finally trusting herself to open her eyes again, the Sheriff blinks slowly as she regards the woman in front of her in utter disbelief. Pale fingers find sharp hips irritably, but the stance is all wrong as the woman she observes stands with her feet planted square apart and her back slightly arched; the mannerisms of one with a smaller build than the long limbs she observes.

"You, uh...Oh shit... Y-you want to at least grab the throw? Please?"

Arching her brows, the brunette turns to fetch the discarded rag; the sensation strange as she attempts to school foreign limbs into moving in a way unnatural to them. Succeeding, and wrapping the throw securely around her newly acquired frame, she sighs as she catches the Sheriff staring at her with her mouth wide open.

"...When you've quite finished _admiring_ yourself..."

"I wasn't! I was... Oh man, this is so _fucked up_ -"

"Miss Swan!"

Perfect skin reddens slightly as the woman on the bed looks down at hands that don't belong to her. She is torn between the urge to giggle madly at the way her voice sounds when used in reprimand- reprimanding _herself_ , she might add; that's the kicker here, right?- as the woman hovering over her barks irritably in the dry drawl that sounds so peculiar when not within her control, and simply pleading insanity.

The Queen herself suffers a moment's irritation as she feels pale cheeks react to the peculiar image of herself openly staring at Emma's unclad form in a similar way.

 _Yes, but it isn't at all what it looked like... When in_ control _I can rest easy knowing the Swan woman and that expression gracing my face will never coincide... Ever._

Sighing as she watches the Sheriff pull her dark locks into disarray with trembling fingers, Regina clears her throat; the sensation odd and creating a sound so unlike the one she is used to making. Regardless, it seems to pull Emma from her shocked stupor and the younger woman looks back up at her with glittering Spanish eyes.

"Why are you...I mean... You're _me_!"

"As observant as ever, dear. Believe me, this is _not_ by choice, but I trust you've watched enough of those trashy films Henry keeps babbling on about ever since you arrived pertaining to such fancies as time travel and alternate universes to understand why it would be foolish for myself to exist as a double."

Regina watches, intrigued, as a smile that looks most bizarre on her full lips graces the other woman's face; the Sheriff tickled at the disdainful tone adopted when speaking of time travel and sci-fi when this experience itself is perhaps the most preposterous of any she could ever fathom.

"I guess that kind of makes sense..."

The Queen nods, suppressing a frown as she concludes that with Emma running her mouth she suddenly sounds as though she has lost a great many IQ points; used to the terms of phrase used by the blonde, but not when expressed in such a sultry, rich tone.

"Of course it makes sense, Sheriff, but this is _not_ a guise I relish, so I wish to make sure one last time that you understand the rules of this little scenario..."

Pushing herself awkwardly from the bed, Emma takes a few tentative steps forwards until she stands directly before the other woman; entirely disconcerted as she is forced to look up into cool green and angular brows.

"Behave..."

"Or else..."

"No Emma antics..."

"No Emma antics... And understand too, Miss Swan, that we are not characters in one of your books... Should you find yourself in trouble, I am unable to rush to your aid... You may _look_ like a Queen, but you posses no power, no magic, and you best hope this doesn't pose a problem. You are to walk with your head held high and yourself in check down that hallway, and you are not to speak to anyone unless it proves entirely necessary to do so... You will see the tower upon exiting the Palace, you can't miss it. I will wait here until you are done... And you best know now that there will be _no_ wandering off, no dawdling, no mouthing off for any reason... I am already beginning to regret this decision... Don't prove me right in doing so."

"...I promise."

Simple. Kind. Sincere.

"Good Luck."

Regina perches stiffly back on the bed as she watches the other woman stalk from the room; a little slower than she might perhaps walk herself, but otherwise the Sheriff pulls off her sweeping exit surprisingly well.


	28. Chapter 28

Making her way down the statue studded hallway, Emma finds herself repeating the mantra 'don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out' over and over in her head. She supposes the ominous depictions of nubile wretches in various displays of submission do little to ease her troubled mind, but at the forefront of her disquiet is the simple peculiarity that accompanies what should be effortless movement.

It is a most disconcerting feeling, placing one foot in front of the other; an act repeated day in, day out since about two years of age- at least, she would reckon on this being the case, but it's not as though she has anyone to ask who might have documented the feat- with no thought or effort at all. The closest thing to which she can relate her current predicament is having to learn to put weight on her leg again after sustaining a bad break at the age of twenty-three; the raised letters of the embossed licence plate belonging to the car responsible leaving a bruise across her fractured shin which had been almost legible.

Regina's legs are a little shorter than her own, which is something numerous arguments spent with her teeth bared in the brunette's face could have told her without having to undergo this most unusual transition, but the difference in the tilt to their hips and the way the weight is dispersed on their frames is something she has never given pause for thought. Now though, as she stalks regally down the empty cavernous hall, she finds herself pondering with wonder the strange fluidity of the darker woman's limbs. It is almost as though she glides across the intricate marble rather than walks as a mere mortal might, and she finds pleasure in the fact, despite its difference to the norm.

To _her_ norm.

However, the aspect of the change that her mind seems most intent to return to, is the odd sensation of, well, _femininity_ the brunette's petite frame offers her. As a teenager she had become aware of the fact that she was perhaps less 'girly' than many of the young women she'd interacted with at the time, but it had been an absent, decidedly vague discovery; not something over which she had lost any sleep, nor anything she wished to change. The idea of being 'female' in the sense of mannerisms and interests had always seemed intertwined with such notions as being weak, of being dependent, of being helpless within her subconscious mind, and, despite a few snide comments here and there- and she has to give Regina credit where credit is due for fulfilling the quota of snide remarks over the present year- the fact that she lacks any real feminine traits other than those biologically bestowed upon her has never really given her much cause for concern.

 _Maybe it's not_ about _that though... About being weak..._

No, because if there's one thing the brunette is _not_ , it is weak, and the Sheriff mulls on this pensively as she walks with a little extra sway; watching the perfect hourglass of her curious shadow appreciatively as she continues towards the large entrance hall to the Palace.

As she nears the threshold, her heartbeat increases warningly in her chest- _no, Regina's chest; about the same size, but fuller due to a smaller frame, and oh, why the hell are you thinking about the Mayor's 'assets'- haha!- right now, Swan? Can't this wait for a time when, gee, I don't know, you're not pulling off 'the great magical heist of the century'?_ \- as she notes a silent sentry stood on either side.

_What would Regina do...?_

Supposing it works to her advantage that she has frequently found herself on the receiving end of some of the less pleasant aspects- the regal aspects- of the brunette's behaviour, she summons up the memory of Regina as she had been- Regina the Mayor- and pulls herself up to her full height; her neck long, and the dark skirts of the gown dancing about narrow shins in an oddly reassuring manner.

_"Do not speak unless spoken to..."_

Tossing silken locks back with an arrogance she prays doesn't look as theatrical as it feels to herself, she stalks past the two translucently pale men without a second glance, allowing a sigh of relief to escape pleasantly plump lips as she finds herself cast beneath the peculiar glow of green emitted from the sea up above.

_Step one: complete. Operation 'Snow' is underway._

She allows her tongue to toy over the small nick to her upper lip with intrigue before catching herself in the act with a frown.

_Stop that..._

Pursing her lips and offering Regina's misbehaving tongue a sharp nip in reprimand, she glances up at the ominous stone of the tower which looms up ahead and continues with a greater purpose.

* * *

She takes the spiralling stairs slower than she usually might, supposing the Queen would be unlikely to bound up them two at a time, and still struggling to be one hundred percent in control of slim, amazingly loose limbs.

 _If you trip and scuff yourself, you're dead meat,_ dear _..._

Banishing the small smirk this thought garners, she sashays authoritatively up cold stone until she is presented with the curved arch of an entrance way a little above her. Taking a deep breath and telling the mutinous thumping of her heart to desist with its painful pounding, she stalks into the damp cavern stiffly, spying the crude stalactites that form a barrier across the middle of the large room and moving to stand before them slowly.

Mary Margaret lies on her back on a small cot bed, her eyes closed and her lips gently parted. Her hair tumbles in disarray and her clothes are ruthlessly crumpled, but she seems otherwise to be no worse for wear.

_She's fine... She's okay... Regina, I know you've sacrificed a great deal for what seems like something so small, but I needed to know, I needed to see...Needed to have just a small touch of, well, home... And she's okay... And I can't thank you enough for allowing me this..._

Clearing her throat, the Sheriff scolds herself swiftly as she feels a foolishly dopey grin alight borrowed lips and quickly schools fine features into an expression of aloof boredom as the raven-headed woman rolls onto her side to greet her visitor.

"You're back..."

"... Yes."

Green eyes narrow suspiciously, and Emma swallows, wondering how in the hell her deception should be so obvious.

"Why are you looking at me like that...?"

_I was going to ask you the same thing..._

Sighing, the Sheriff merely offers a nonchalant shrug, deciding the safest option to be ignorance.

"... How are you?"

Snow blinks in surprise, but she casts a glance down to the meagre cot bed beneath her before returning her attention to the Queen with a cold, humourless smile.

"Is that question supposed to be funny?"

"No... I..."

Casting her eyes down to the dirt ridden floor, Emma gathers herself swiftly before regarding the woman before her with a hard expression and injecting her words with the confidence so familiar within the rich tone that falls from her lips.

"Hardly; I have little time for games. I merely came to warn you not to get too comfortable- _At least there's a mattress, right? It's not too bad? We're working on it, we really are! We're going to get back and it's all going to be fine, and please stop looking at me like that... Stop looking at_ Regina _like that... Things have changed, I promise, and I just can't take you looking at me like that-_ as we will soon be embarking on our trip back to Storybrooke..."

"Well... You've certainly been taking your time..."

Cold. So very cold.

"And I suppose my daughter still finds herself down in the servant's quarters. Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if you actually mean to take us back with you at _all_..."

Emma balks visibly at the acid to the schoolteacher's tone- not having been privy to the previous conversation in which Regina had warned the younger woman to act in a way expected of her- and the look of hurt that crosses fine features has the pale woman frowning as she can't quite shake the feeling that there is something most peculiar about the Dark Queen.

"... As I've already told you, Snow White, your fate lies in my hands and do not think for a second that leaving you to rot in this cell will suffice to satisfy my need for revenge for... All that you've done to me..."

While the Sheriff struggles to keep herself from inflecting nervously, the raven-headed woman's focus lies predominantly within the use of her full name; the words sounding clunky and out of place.

"... All that I've done to you...?"

Narrow shoulders shrug in a fashion entirely foreign to the brunette's regal frame as full lips form a hard, thoughtful line that seems oh so familiar to the school teacher, but she is unable to put her finger on just why that might be.

"Regina..."

Troubled eyes fail to flicker in recognition of being addressed, and Snow rises from the bed and pads towards the stony bars of her cell with a frown.

As the pale woman approaches the barrier, the brunette seems to pull herself together; tossing back glossy locks and sniffing irritably. Paying this little mind, the schoolteacher peers through the bars critically; green eyes narrowed as she stands so close to the darker woman that her breath whispers gently across her cheeks.

"What are you playing at?"

It is a low murmur, and she imagines that to any onlookers they would portray a rather strange tableaux indeed; close enough to kiss through the bars... Close enough to bite.

"... Playinhg at?"

The Queen takes an awkward step backwards, mouth hard while dark coals flicker uncomfortably. She places her hands irritably on cocked hips and the paler woman's mouth falls open as it dawns on her just where she recognizes Regina's sudden strange mannerisms from.

 _Whom_ she recognizes them from.

"Oh my god..."

Spanish eyes glitter dangerously as the brunette gives a minute shake of her head, her expression rife with warning as she regards shocked green warily.

"I... Uh..."

Wishing more than anything for a chance to simply drop her tiresome act and reach through the bars to her housemate, Emma gives a small nod of apology before once more adopting a tone of disdain and sweeping her hair back indifferently.

"Well, I will leave you to your thoughts..."

"... Right... Uh, Regina...?"

"... Yes?"

"Emma... She's alright? Will you tell me that much?"

"... She's fine, dear. I imagine she simply looks forward to returning home... Foolishly of course..."

"She's looking forward to coming... home?"

"... Of course she is... "

Allowing just the smallest of smiles to touch full lips, the Sheriff gives the schoolteacher a small nod of farewell before turning with a flourish and marching from the room; Snow watching with a disconcerted sigh as the last swatch of black satin slips from view.

_You take care of yourself now, Emma... It was good to see you- better than you could know- but tread carefully... Please._

It is only when she moves back to perch on the bed that she thinks of just how strange it should be that Regina would allow the blonde the faith to carry off her little masquerade. Frowning, she tells herself to simply take solace in the fact that both the Queen and the Sheriff seem to be keeping their heads above water while refraining from clawing each other's eyes out.


	29. Chapter 29

Sitting rigidly on plush covers, Regina clenches her jaw as she wills the maddening itch of the throw wrapped tightly around borrowed limbs to desist. Doing so feels strange; the blonde's teeth fitting together in a peculiar fashion, and she is willing to bet the younger woman spends- or _has_ spent- a good deal of time grinding them in either anger or nervousness. Having spent the last half hour in her current guise, this notion comes as no great surprise, as it fits in with the rest of the sensations she has been forced to endure perfectly.

It is as though the blonde's entire being is wound up as if it were some sort of mechanism in danger of exploding at any given second; her muscles almost painfully tight, taut and hard and the seemingly constant thrum of adrenaline coursing through the Sheriff's body more than a little nauseating.

_How does she put up with this and not go mad?_

_'_ Go' _mad? The Sheriff!?... A little late to worry about such things_ now _, is it not?_

"Quite."

Being trapped within the blonde's body is not an _entirely_ unpleasant feeling however, as with this strange tension comes a peculiar sense of power- so very different from that with which she is well acquainted- and she imagines that if she were to take her current prison out on a 'test drive' as it were, she would pack quite a punch.

Pointing slim feet in a simple ballet pose, she studies the hard lines of definition that mar pale flesh with open curiosity, not quite wishing to grace the blonde with yet more complimentary thoughts- something she has found most disconcerting ever since coming to Emma's aid at the hands of her mother- but simply pondering absentmindedly why the Sheriff should insist on covering herself up the way she does. True, she has made many a snide comment as to the younger woman's -albeit infrequent- low cut tops and sheer shirts, and she stands by the notion that the blonde dresses in a way that suggests she doesn't have two dimes to rub together, but the odd skirt or dress would hardly go amiss.

"Although I dread to think what our good Sheriff would constitute as 'fashionable' in either case..."

Smirking- one of the few expressions that feels completely natural in her borrowed skin- she plucks primly at the fraying bandage covering the blonde's left knee. Wrinkling her nose at its dirt-ridden state, she finds the small fold where she had tucked the end neatly away and pulls it back out; raising her leg slightly in order to unwind the filthy rag.

The newly exposed flesh has healed well- the grazes sure to scar, but, judging by the surrounding smattering of faded nicks and dents, this is hardly something over which the younger woman will mourn too deeply- and the area which had previously been covered by fraying white now creates an amusing stripe of pale pink against dusty yellow.

"A bath would not go amiss, dear..."

She finds herself blushing ever so slightly at the thought, swiftly scolding such ideas while she remains the wearer of the filthy limbs in question. To add to her annoyance, this tangent only serves to have her attention returning once more to the uncomfortable itch of the throw and she sighs irritably, refusing to acknowledge any alternative option.

 _It's not as though I haven't found myself forced to view such sights these past few days against my better will, but to_ own _them momentarily also... To touch, to feel..._

Pulling the itchy fabric briskly tighter, she wishes more than anything she'd arranged some sort of time frame with the Sheriff in which to expect her return.

"No... If I'm _wishing_ for things, I wish to know what momentary loss of sanity led to agreeing to this in the first place..."

 _You didn't just_ agree _to it, dear... You_ suggested _it... For the_ Swan woman! _... A severe loss of sanity indeed._

A knock at the door shakes her from her thoughts and she rolls her eyes in frustration as she imagines just what it would look like should anybody be privy to the 'Queen' begging entrance to her own chambers.

"Honestly, dear, don't you ever _think_!..."

Padding over to the door, she pulls it open as she readies herself to berate the younger woman for her stupidity, but the words never come as she finds herself face to face with the Sea Queen.

"... Your Majesty..."

Alarm bells begin going off in her head, and she suffers a brief moment of being sure she's going to pass out as Emma's body reacts to her fear with a bolt of adrenaline which can be described in no other way than animalistic, before she pulls herself together and offers the older woman an odd sort of bow; made awkward both by slightly elongated limbs, and her mind's simple refusal to stoop to such an act.

Taking in a sharp breath as the Witch sweeps past her- brushing a stubby hand against the coarse fabric covering her hip- she strives to gather her thoughts; reminding herself that she wears the blonde's face and that she must act accordingly, despite her gut telling her that to submit in such a way is wrong.

_Isn't this what you've been asking of Emma, though?_

_No... I have '_ asked' _nothing of the woman. She wanted help and I offered it. Why should I be made to fret over the consequences?_

"Where's your Queen, sweetheart?"

Hooded eyes flicker about the room greedily before falling on long legs as crimson lips form a small smile. Regina stands her ground; no easy feat as her stomach flips nauseatingly.

She hadn't liked the way the Witch had looked upon the Sheriff when simply playing witness to the act, but now that she's stuck behind cold, green glass, she finds such attention to be utterly repulsive.

"... She wished to go and see my mother... "

"I see... I wonder what on earth for...?"

"I'm unsure... Probably just to gloat..."

It is odd speaking as the blonde, but it is also a little upsetting in a strange way. She tells herself she is simply playing a part, but when voiced in Emma's dry, surly tone she finds herself wondering if the Sheriff wouldn't in fact say much the same thing... Only _mean_ it.

 _So_ what _if she would? Don't let the chaos that has taken place here trick you into thinking you value any opinion offered by that little home wrecker..._

The thought is a half-hearted one, for deep down she knows it's too late to avoid such irritations. She refuses to dwell upon the changes between the younger woman and herself, but that doesn't mean that things _haven't_ changed...

 _And Emma_ wouldn't _think that..._

"I see... So she's left you all alone?"

"... She won't be long..."

"No... No I imagine you're right... _I_ wouldn't wish to leave you alone for all too long, either... Such a _waste_..."

Shuddering slightly, Regina takes a step backwards to create a little more space between them; her heartbeat increasing rapidly as dark eyes continue to roam over her openly.

_How dare you look upon a Queen in such a way?! You are filth! I would have your hide for such perversion if this were my realm!_

_... But you're_ not _the Queen. Not now. You're_ Emma _. She's looking at you how you keep telling Emma to allow of her..._

_"Just behave, Miss Swan..."_

_Really?... Is this what it feels like to be-_

But her mind goes blank as all of a sudden things start to happen much too quickly; her vision impaired by shadow as the Witch's face looms close to her own and her backside makes damning contact with the dresser, her hands- Emma's hands- shooting back instinctively to keep her from falling in her attempt to avoid the Sea Queen.

"Such a pretty thing... "

"I..."

Cloying perfume and thick fingers at her cheek, as the Witch's buxom frame presses softly against her own and the Mayor shakes her head in numb shock- _how dare she treat me in such a way?!_ \- and tries to slip from Ursula's loathsome grasp.

"Oh oh oh, and a misbehaving little piece at that!"

The Witch's jocular tone seems to resonate between them jarringly, as the older woman tires of the other's skittish behaviour and attacks her once more; wrenching away thick wool as she shoves the blonde forcefully back against the dresser.

Regina lets out a cry, not sure if it is in rage or pain as her cheeks burn with humiliation and her borrowed ribs and hips- so recently healed- send bolts of white agony coursing through her as she collides with hard maple.

"Hey! N-no... What are you-"

"-Hush now..."

"No!"

A sharp and audible crack followed by the hateful sting of tears; the Mayor stunned as she slowly processes the fact that the Sea Queen has struck her, never having been treated in such a manner before.

_No, that's not true. You've been struck across the face before. By Emma..._

_But not like this..._

Trembling fingers shoot to a burning cheek as pale lips part to let loose a distressed gasp as meaty hands paw where they are not wanted; struggling to stumble out of reach while dimly aware that salted tears spill out onto high cheekbones.

"No! _Don't_! No!-"

Her shins strike the bed, and, had she been in her own body, she imagines she would have succeeded in avoiding the terrifying crash that comes next as she falls flailing onto the mattress- the tears that dampen her cheeks as much a result of sheer shock and humiliation as she thinks of her throne and of her stature as they are due to her fear- and cries out as a great weight crushes down on her.

"Oh stop this nonsense! Stop this right now! Stop or I'll _make_ you do so, my dear one, and neither one of us really wants it to come to that..."

A shocked whimper as a bejewelled hand works its way perversely high between clenched thighs.

"What are you-"

A cruel smirk before Ursula admonishes angrily

"I told you to bite your tongue, girl! Don't make me do it for you..."

Regina snaps sharp teeth shut to imprison the blonde's tongue, her breathing frantic and shallow as her mind races; unable to believe any of this is happening.

The Sea Queen simpers affectionately as the younger woman keeps her uneasy silence, and leans in close; her breath hot as it whispers over the hollow of the Mayor's throat.

"... Much better, sweetness... Oh, you need to be taught your place, little one; it is _most_ clear this hasn't been taken care of at _all.._. But fret not... It's not _all_ bad, my darling... It can even be _fun_... So.. _. So_ much fun... You know... I think I might like to try and teach you a few things _myself_... My guests, lovely, they _crave_ entertainment... Oh, and you would provide so much more fun than a dull little ditty performed by some buffoon on the piano down there...-"

Thick fingers worm their way ever higher and a sick clicking noise accompanies the Witch's perverse words as Regina gulps audibly; slim fingers a stark white as she fists the throw beneath her in distress.

"We could teach you some things, precious, my guests and I... Like a little puppy dog... like a bitch in heat performing- whoring- for treats... We could loosen you up... We could-"

"-No!"

A bejewelled knuckle brushes somewhere it shouldn't and the Mayor yells out as she feels a bolt of electricity shoot through painfully clenched limbs.

"... No?"

Angry. Low. Warning.

Ursula rises to study her lesser; dark coals glittering feverishly as she drinks in flushed cheeks and pinkened eyes.

"You dare defy me?..."

"... I'm not yours..."

Laughter; cruel and light as the Witch licks her lips in amusement.

"Oh?"

Long nails pluck ripped fabric aside, and the younger woman shows her teeth as she growls, her voice laced with a new authority.

"...I belong to _Regina_..."

"My dear-"

"-What's going on...?"

Silence falls heavily as both women on the bed look to the doorway.


	30. Chapter 30

_"-What's going on...?"_

_Silence falls heavily as both women on the bed look to the doorway._

In that moment, Emma is vaguely aware that she has two options; madness or survival, and while this decision should be straight forward enough, she feels she is dangerously close to opting for the former. She imagines what little sense she _does_ manage to grasp onto is more for Regina's sake than her own; entirely thrown to be presented with her own fear-filled features, but recognizing the Queen somewhere beneath tousled blonde tresses and dirt-streaked pale skin.

Pulling her loaned body to its full height, she stalks into the room furiously, dark eyes glittering as she finds the Sea Witch's deadly gaze.

"Get off of her..."

No niceties, no respect for Ursula's stature, but that's okay; she doubts Regina would have reacted any differently.

Still, she is surprised when her low growl is met with simple compliance; the Sea Queen slipping eel-like from the bed as she licks her lips in a way that sends a shiver down the Sheriff's spine. Regina rolls onto her side, clenching her thighs protectively together, but the blonde's legs are slim and don't touch at their apex, causing her to curl up in a fetal position which feels entirely wrong. Dark eyes flicker towards the woman on the bed momentarily, but Emma snaps her attention firmly back to the Witch; full lips curled back with a fury that lends refined features an animalistic quality.

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear as to who the girl belongs to..."

No matter how many times the subject has been broached, it still fills her with an odd sense of trepidation and seems entirely 'wrong'. She has never- nor _will_ she ever- 'belong' to anybody, and the subtext to the term in this situation is very far removed from her comfort zone. That said, this is the first time of acknowledging the strange pact with Regina when she hasn't _despised_ the term. She supposes, in a way, for the time being, she _does_ belong to the brunette in a fashion; Regina having proven herself not just an ally, but a guardian of sorts also.

And this is her chance to return the favor.

Squaring up the the Sea Queen with a deep rage she hopes masquerades as authority, she stares her down as the older woman appears to muse on their situation with minimal concern.

"You are not to touch her!"

"So you keep saying, my dear..."

"Then I would appreciate it if you took heed of my request!... I am grateful to you, as I have expressed more than once, but my gratitude does not extend to things that are _mine_..."

From the bed, the Mayor blinks in surprise; of all the scenarios she'd envisaged once the Sheriff had made herself known at the threshold, this is not one she had dared hope for. The blonde speaks eloquently. She offers a sterling performance. She submits willingly.

"... Pity."

"I'm sorry you think so."

"I see. Well... No matter. I will leave you to your spoils. Enjoy her..."

The Witch offers a smile which has the younger woman recoiling ever so slightly- _What were you doing here? What were you doing to her... To me-_ before slipping from the room; seemingly unflustered and with no grudge held.

_Which makes her all the more dangerous._

Letting out a shuddering breath when the door thuds gently closed, Emma looks to the bed as she chews on a perfectly plump bottom lip.

"Regina..."

Moving over to take up an awkward seat on plush covers, she extends her hand to the Mayor cautiously, withdrawing it as if burnt when the darker woman snarls at her; the noise sounding odd as it escapes her own lips.

"Get the hell away from me!"

"But I-"

"-This is _your_ fault! If I hadn't let you convince me to allow such madness... It should have been _you_!"

Emma opens her mouth to growl back, but she is at a loss of what to say. Green eyes shimmer pink as tears of humiliation spill out onto high cheekbones, and she knows better than to begrudge the Mayor for her harsh words.

Regina is proud.

That much they have in common.

Letting out a low sigh as the Queen pushes past her and stalks a little unsteadily towards the bathroom, the Sheriff worries her lip nervously as she is left staring at the door; the telling click of the lock echoing loudly.

"Regina... Are you-"

But she stops herself. To ask if the brunette is okay is pointless as the answer is all too clear.

* * *

In the bathroom, Regina puts down the lid of the toilet and sits with her head in her hands, growling in frustration as long, blonde hair tumbles over her face. She toes the line between fury and humiliation; her chest- the Sheriff's chest- tight with anger, and tears wetting her palms despite her best efforts to quell such weakness.

_It should have been Emma. It should have been Emma. It should never have been me. It should have been Emma._

As these thoughts plague her mind, they are not the result of any ill feelings towards the blonde, but more a mourning for her crown. For her throne. Things have been tough for her for a long time- the world as harsh on the Queen as she has been on its inhabitants- but such carnal humiliation is not something she has experienced before, and the perversity of the situation has her feeling physically nauseous.

_I was the Queen... I was everything... How dare she... How dare she treat me in such a way!?_

Digging- fortunately blunt- nails into the fragile flesh of her cheeks, she lets out a shuddering breath, sniffing miserably. Her head hurts, but she is slowly managing to gather herself under control, and with this comes a sense of guilt. She is not one to apologize for her words expressed in anger- to apologize for her words at _all_ \- but she does feel a small sense of discomfort having experienced first hand what the blonde has been subjected to. It had been rough and forceful, and she is distraught in the knowledge that she can no longer risk leaving Emma alone.

 _Will_ no longer risk it.

_"Oh, you need to be taught your place, little one; it is most clear this hasn't been taken care of at all... But fret not... It's not all bad, my darling... It can even be fun... So... So much fun... You know... I think I might like to try teach you a few things myself... My guests, lovely, they crave entertainment... "_

She shivers.

_You still don't know what she plans to ask of you in return for her aid..._

But she has a feeling she can make an educated guess.

While not part of a bargain, she has a certain amount of control over the Witch's treatment of the Sheriff; not as much as she had initially thought, but enough to keep Emma relatively safe ... But, should the Sea Queen decide she no longer wishes to play by their current rules...

_Then you will have to find something else to offer her. You can't let her harm Emma, not when you need to bring her home for Henry._

_Ah, but it isn't_ harm _she wishes to bestow onto the blonde._

Shivering once more, her current state of attire- or lack of it- dawns on her slowly, and with it, the dull ache gnawing at skinny hips and a defeated, miserable hunger deep in her gut.

"Oh, my dear, you really are in a sorry state."

The thought has her wishing- not for the first time- that she had never come here. That she had left Emma and Mary Margaret to perish in the Enchanted Forest. After all, there would have been a slim chance Snow would have found them a way home... Unlikely... But not impossible. True, she doubts things would have ever been fully rectified between herself and Henry with the Sheriff's disappearance looming over them, but she is unsure whether their relationship can be fixed even now.

If she had stayed in Storybrooke, she wouldn't be stuck with the dilemma she faces now.

Of having unconsciously grown ever so very slightly fond of the younger woman.

Of sharing the blonde's pain.

"Let's not push it..."

* * *

When the blonde changes, she barely feels it, but the shock of staring down at smooth, olive-skinned knees only to have them merge a bruised, graze-spattered alabaster has her taking in a sharp gasp and blinking childishly. Looking up to the bathroom doorway, she finds Regina leaning against the beam with her arms crossed over her chest, surveying her critically.

"...Regina..."

"We need to get you some food, Miss Swan... And then I'd suggest a bath."

The Mayor's tone is close to boredom, her expression suggesting she has no wish to discuss Ursula's actions. Emma frowns, dimly aware of an all too familiar pain in her hips and ribs but she says nothing on the matter.

"... Okay."

Fiddling with a strand of hair- _her_ hair; its generous length soothingly familiar- she simply waits for whatever comes next, unsure exactly what emotions hide behind the Queen's stoic expression.

"You'll come down with me. You're not to stay up here on your own anymore."

The Sheriff resists the urge to answer back; Regina's tone suggesting Emma had been hiding up in the room just to spite her.

"Okay."

"... I'm sorry..."

"For?"

"For what I said. I was-"

"- I get it."

"... Good."

"Good."

"... Come on, let's find some food."

"Sure..."

Regina frowns as the blonde opens her mouth as if to add something, but she seems to think better of it and simply pushes herself from the bed.

"... What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"Emma..."

"No, it's fine, it's just... Shouldn't she have sorted us out by now? Like... What are we actually _waiting_ for?"

_Ursula to decide what she wants as payment for her services._

"I'm sure these things just take time..."

_"I think I might like to teach you a few things myself..."_

"I will ask for an update tonight..."

"You think she's messing with us?"

"No..."

_"My guests, lovely, they crave entertainment..."_

"I believe Ursula relishes the knowledge that she holds all the cards as it were... I... I wouldn't fret on it, dear. I'll sort us out."

"I know."

Only two words, and the blonde utters them with a small shrug and little thought.

Regina swallows, tasting copper.


	31. Chapter 31

"Sorry, that took rather longer than expected-"

The brunette's words taper off into silence as she closes the door to the bedchambers and spies Emma. The blonde lies curled up on her side facing the door; sooty lashes casting shadow across her cheeks as she takes in deep and tellingly even breaths.

It is a sight the Queen imagines would ordinarily have her smirking to herself- although even now she is able to appreciate the way the Sheriff's balled up fist leaves her thumb amusingly close to parted lips- but after the conversation with Ursula from which she returns, she doesn't feel a whole lot like smiling. Padding a little closer to the bed with subconscious care to keep quiet, she crosses her arms uncomfortably over her chest as she looks down on the younger woman with a frown.

_I wish someone could tell me what to do..._

The blonde's long hair is slightly damp, and from the looks of her arms and shoulders which are visible as they crest the bedspread, she appears to have taken the time left in secure peace to finally cleanse herself of the layer of grime in which she had previously wallowed. This theory is supported by a sea-green towel Regina spots slung haphazardly onto the stool by the dresser and she lets out a low sigh as she makes her way over to pluck it up and fold it neatly so as to actually let it dry.

She removes her clothes with little care as to the younger woman's presence; negating to shut herself away in the bathroom, but instead simply moving around to the other side of the bed so that Emma has her back to her. Folding her clothes neatly- making a mental note that she will have to find something else to wear within the depths of the closet, as she is not a woman who will condone festering for more than three days in the same attire- she places them on the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom to splash cold water onto her face. Finding the indigo tunic she has been using in leu of a nightgown, she slips it neatly over her head.

Turning back to the sink with a frown, she repeats her pervious actions; collecting cupped handfuls of water and splashing them repeatedly over her face, but she knows deep down that the dirtiness she feels is not the sort that will be cleansed away with soap and water.

"What a mess..."

Giving herself a scrutinising glance in the mirror, she looks away irritably and stalks back into the bedroom, climbing beneath the covers while taking care not to brush against the Sheriff.

She is certain sleep will be a long time coming, but she simply resigns to the fact; giving a brief flick of her wrist to quell the lights and closing her eyes against the darkness.

* * *

_She offers the Sheriff a final glance as she stands at the threshold with her hand on the doorknob. She is relieved that they had not been forced to reenact the obscene dinner theatre previously necessary to ensure the blonde doesn't go hungry, having come across no one on their way down to the pantry; Emma tagging behind with her head respectfully bowed. The desertion of the halls had seemed curious, but, knowing little of the ways and the schedule of the Palace, Regina had been happy to take good luck where she could find it. The rest of the day they had spent together in a not altogether unpleasant silence, simply waiting out each other's company as the brunette fretted for night to fall- figuratively within this realm- so as to seek out the Witch and demand answers._

_Now, inwardly grimacing at the encouraging smile the younger woman offers, she gives her a curt nod before closing the door; sealing the threshold with one of her more complex enchantments._

_She in almost positive such a precaution is pointless- her magic of little use to the inhabitants of this hateful place- but it does no harm to at least give it a go._

_And besides... She is planning to request the company of the threat she attempts to guard the blonde against... Keeping her enemies close._

_When she finally makes her way down to the room in which Ursula has entertained her previously, she suffers a moment of understandable doubt as she has no way of knowing whether she has come to the right place to find the Sea Queen. A soft rap on the door has her swallowing at least a little of her anxiety as a raspy voice from within lets out a low purr._

_"Enter..."_

_Slipping cautiously into the dim glow of the room, Regina swallows thickly as she is accosted with a most disconcerting scene. The Witch reclines lazily back on the large bed that centres the room, her dress wrinkled up around thick, fish-belly pale thighs, between which a young woman with a heavily scarred back moves her head in an obscene fashion._

_"What can I do for you, darling?"_

_The brunette finds herself at a momentary loss for words; utterly disgusted to play witness to such a private and debauched act, but she gathers herself firmly and averts her eyes from the activities underway further south in favour of regarding Ursula stoically. The Sea Queen's eyes don't even flicker._

_"... I have questions I was hoping you would be able to answer."_

_"Oh?"_

_Regina nods, her lips forming a hard line as she forbids her mind from replaying the hateful bedroom scene from earlier. She is thrown by the older woman's apparent decision to proceed with their current conversation without ordering the frail, startlingly pale woman between her legs to desist and leave them be, but she takes care not to let it show._

_"Indeed... I am deeply grateful for your hospitality and your kindness since arriving here, but as you perhaps will be able to understand better than any; I am_ royalty _, and I am anxious to deal with affairs in my own realm... I wish to know if you have made any progress in your quest to aid me in returning...?"_

 _"Ah, but of course... You worry too much, sweetheart, just as your mother did. We must all relax now and again and_ enjoy _ourselves... But you are a fiery young woman, and I find that most pleasurable... Progress, though... Well,_ progress _is a funny term. You see, it's not a case of figuring out a way, in this case, but figuring out a_ want _, you understand me? I do not condone handouts, my love, nor do I offer up favours for free... If I am to spend my time and energy, I want something in return."_

_"... And, do you know what it is you might like from me?"_

_"As I have previously stated; gold, magic, gifts, debts... They bore me. I have no use for them... But you do have_ something _I might consider trading..."_

_Ursula offers a wicked grin, her cheeks becoming flushed and her breathing becoming ever so slightly laboured. The Mayor balls her hands surreptitiously into fists._

_"... What might that be, Your Majesty?"_

_"Oh come now, let's not pussyfoot around in such a pitiful dance... You_ know _what I want."_

_"... I'm afraid I don't..."_

_"The girl. You have her... I want her."_

_"... No."_

_"No?!"_

_"You can't... I mean... What would you even_ want _with her? She is of meaning to myself due to the history shared with her mother... To you she is of no value, surely?"_

_"Oh, she has value... She must... Why else would you be so attached to her?"_

_"I am not_ attached _to the girl. I am protective over my ownership of her, but that is as far as it goes."_

_"... I don't like being lied to."_

_"I... She..."_

_"She must be in possession of_ some _talent, sweetness, or you would have spent the day enjoying the royal court and the luncheon hosted for my guests... It is rather odd for_ royalty _to spend her day cooped up in the company of a servant girl, wouldn't you agree?"_

_"Well-"_

_"-Unless, of course, the little wretch in question has the talents to match her looks... She is a fine looking girl despite her markings, I will allow you that much..."_

_"... She's... Attractive, yes."_

_"So tell me..."_

_"...I'm not sure I understand what talents you speak of. So far as I have witnessed, she holds no discernible skills in anything of use, save for an aptitude for vile language and poor attitude."_

_Regina purses her lips, fully aware that they_ both _know just what the Sea Queen is asking of her, but unable to entertain a reply. However, Ursula is not one to take pity, and she doesn't fail to play to character now; beginning a sordid pumping of her hips as she entwines thick fingers into tangled red hair- her heavy rings catching and snagging roughly- and licking her lips as she continues._

_"Oh, don't be coy... I'll bet the lovely princess is capable of far more with her tongue than spitting obscenities..."_

_Feeling an uncharacteristic blush creeping across her cheeks, the brunette struggles to keep her composure as the rage at being insulted and spoken to in such a fashion threatens to overwhelm her. She is at a loss of what to say, but Ursula seems not to notice; closing her eyes as she continues in a breathy voice._

_"And I'm dying to now what tricks she learnt being part of that other world... Such a feisty young thing... Delightful... And with the way you spring to her protection, I have no doubt she's let you in on more than a few of them... Tell me... Tell me what Emma does for you that makes her so desirable... What you do to_ her _... Those cuts... That bruising... She told me her mother was the one to tend to her injuries, but the bandages... They suggest she has felt both your hand in reprimand and your hand in kindness... Myself... My underlings are expendable, but you... You want this to_ last _for her don't you... To keep her fit and healthy to prolong your games... To_ fuck _with her..."_

_The Witch's last words are little more than a throaty groan; thrusting her hips up as she speaks before letting out a low moan and chuckle._

_A singular bead of blood splashes unnoticed to the floor as once-manicured nails burrow deeply into the delicate flesh of soft palms._

_Taking in a shaky breath, the brunette speaks without emotion._

_"... What do you want with Emma?"_

_"Are you ready to deal?"_

_A raised eyebrow as hooded eyes find hers; the Sea Queen petting the young woman who curls up before her as though she were a cat, the mermaid's jaw glistening damningly._

_"... Just tell me what you want."_

_"The girl..."_

_"She's-"_

_"Oh, I know, dearest, she's yours... But you are in possession of such a seemingly_ fun _toy that I can't help but want a go. I am offering you a great favour, Regina, and all I ask in return is that you show your gratitude by sharing what is yours. No different than allowing your most treasured guests to sip from your best wine... So what I propose is this; I am currently playing host not just to yourself and your spoils, but to the forgotten Nereids from the very depths of a distant ocean. Not just royalty, precious, but_ deities _. There is bad blood in our histories, just as there is in our past concerning humans, but this is something we aim to rectify... As times changem, as must our relationships and bonds. I am hosting a small soiree in their honour and I wish to invite you along as a guest... You will bring the girl. Whatever talents you seem so resolute in keeping all to yourself, I imagine we shall have a fun time prying from her... In short... You provide my guests and I with an evening of entertainment. When we are finished with her, you may do with her what you will. She is yours..."_

_"... And if I say no?"_

_"I wouldn't advise you do so. I am not a woman who takes kindly to not having her way, and there is only one thing you possess in which I hold any interest. I have stated my terms, now go think on them if you must... But remember this... I don't dabble in free handouts. If you deny me the girl, there is only so long that your blood and your stature will give me reason to play host. The choice is yours, sweetness, but I'm not sure there's a great deal for you to think about... You have three days."_

_With that the Witch makes a shooing gesture with her hand, as the other dips down to her wetness, causing the brunette to turn swiftly away. Regina offers a gritted farewell before making her way stiffly from the room, dimly aware that her hands are shaking._

* * *

Letting out a small gasp as she is pulled swiftly from sleep, the brunette blinks in the darkness; willing the hateful scene from earlier to leave her be. Turning onto her side, she is able to make out the gentle slope of the blonde's shoulder and the light mass of her curls which seem to glow ever so slightly in the shadows. Flicking her wrist lightly, she allows just a little light; the candles in the chandelier above them flickering in a way that should not be possible as they cast a hazy glow about the room.

Pushing herself up so that she rests on one elbow, Regina peers down at sparsely freckled flesh before jumping slightly when the Sheriff moves. Emma simply proceeds to roll over, however, curling up a little more as she now faces the Queen, but her eyelashes flicker tellingly and the brunette knows that her ignition of the lights has broken the blonde's peaceful dreaming.

"...'Gina?"

Groggy, still half asleep, and seemingly unaware that she has let the throw fall to expose her abdomen fully.

_She's... Attractive, yes._

The brunette frowns.

"Sorry, dear... I was just checking something."

"... Is everything okay?"

Emma doesn't open her eyes, and the Queen imagines she's only half aware that she's even speaking, but still her brow creases slightly with concern, and the Mayor finds herself suddenly curiously close to tears. Giving her head a quick shake, she allows the lights to dampen into darkness once more.

"Everything's fine."

And with that she shocks herself, as she extends her hand and gives the younger woman's skinny shoulder a squeeze, stroking soft skin gently, before rolling away to face the wall.

"Hush now, and go back to sleep."


	32. Chapter 32

_Scarlet._

_It pools in the shallow dip of the blonde's navel; its damning stain highlighting a small nick to the flesh above and the Mayor imagines the Sheriff must have once worn it pierced, the way she has heard some women do in that other world._

_She shivers, leaning down and touching the tip of her tongue to that tiny mark and tasting copper._

_The younger woman gives a soft mewl of encouragement, lifting her hips slightly, but she is the Queen's toy and not here to be pleasured._

_Sharp nails drag once again down bloodied flesh in reprimand and the blonde lets out a choked cry; the noise muffled as she moans into hot flesh._

_Taking heed of the darker woman's warning, she goes back to lapping at the Queen's wetness with greater earnest; trembling fingers stroking satin-soft thighs as the brunette kneels above her with her legs splayed._

_Drinking in pale, white flesh splayed out beneath her, the darker woman bites her lip, letting out a low hum as her prize focuses her attention on the small bundle of nerves hidden between slick folds._

_Lowering herself a little more- her thighs tired of holding her weight, and her interests in her own comfort, not the Sheriff's- she strokes a finger over the sharp peak that announces the base of the younger woman's ribcage with a satisfied smile as the girl beneath her tenses visibly; her airflow dangerously restricted._

_The sweet attention to the Queen's lust never falters._

_Rocking her hips slightly, the brunette closes her eyes as she feels herself begin to peak towards_ _ecstasy, resting her palm heavily on the toned flesh of her toy's stomach to keep herself steady._

_Her movements cause sharp teeth to accidentally graze her tender flesh._

_She allows no accidents._

_Slapping the flat of her hand down ruthlessly between the blonde's gently parted legs, the resultant jerk of slim limbs and cry against her centre has her falling forward as she climaxes violently; the hand she had been using to steady herself slipping through the slick remnants of her earlier punishments._

_Clambering off the blonde while still in the frenzied throws of her pleasure, she turns herself around to straddle slim hips, mouthing and biting at the slender column of the younger woman's throat; able to feel the frantic thrum of the Sheriff's pulse against her tongue as the latter takes in desperate gulps of air._

_"Splendid"_

_A deep, rich tone, and she stiffens in confusion, her teeth still closed on salted flesh. Moving slowly, she rises so that she sits mounting the Sheriff, raising her head with an awful trepidation._

_Onlookers; many of them. A sea of faceless slippery bodies writhing with their own want._

_At the forefront; the Sea Queen._

_Grinning._

_"Now, darling, don't be greedy. Let someone else have a go."_

_Laughter._

_Shuddering, she closes her eyes, suddenly terrified to look down at the blonde._

_"...Emma?"_

_Finally lowering her gaze, she shakes her head as she is met with tear-filled green; the younger woman shaking her head as she trembles with distraught sobbing._

_"Why, Regina?!"_

* * *

"Regina?!"

Salted lashes fly open and the brunette is met with curious green as the Sheriff looms over her so close that their noses almost touch. She is dimly aware of strong fingers gripping one of her shoulders and the soft round of the blonde's breast pressing against her side as Emma continues to inspect her with clear concern.

"Shit, you just wouldn't wake up! What the hell kind of dream were you _having_?!"

Still, the younger woman doesn't move, and the Queen shivers as she feels warm breath whisper across her face as she speaks.

"Emma..."

"I'm here."

A small- uncharacteristically sweet- smile, and somewhere in the back of her mind Regina notes the sleepiness apparent in pale features and understands that her fretful slumbering must have roused the Sheriff; morning still another hour or so away.

"...I can see that."

"Are you okay?"

"... Of course I am. It was a dream, dear, and I am a grown woman."

"I know that, but like... You were really going for it, you know? I almost thought you were throwing a fit or something... But then you spoke, and I realised you were dreaming, but at first I couldn't wake you..."

"... I said something?"

"Yeah... You, uh... Said my name..."

"...Well, I suppose your mere presence would constitute a nightmare..."

Her words are snide, and her tone dismissive, but Emma seems unconvinced, and the brunette finds herself crucially aware of the younger woman's body heat as she remains somewhat pressed against her.

Dark eyes flicker to pretty, pink lips that hover just a little too close.

"I'm fine."

"... If you say so."

And _finally_ she rolls away, leaving the flesh against which she had previously been pressed feeling curiously chilled.

Regina is all too aware of intelligent green studying her as the Sheriff lies on her side; silent but watchful.

She is aware that her hands tremble.

She is aware of a damning wetness between her legs.

Slipping swiftly from the bed- not wanting to be anywhere _near_ the younger woman as the blonde lies so pretty, so trusting beside her- she mutters something about wishing to take a shower and closes the door to the bathroom swiftly behind her, before staggering to hold herself up by means of the sink.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

She whispers, as tears patter unchecked into the basin.

Shaking her head, she moves swiftly to the shower, wrenching the ornate taps violently to unleash a scalding torrent of water. Keeping it as hot as she is able to bear, she pulls the indigo shift up over her head and moves to stand beneath it, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she bows her head and allows water to stream from her dark locks.

 _I can't do this. I can't do that to her. Not to_ anyone _... But especially not to Emma._

The thought doesn't exactly _surprise_ her, but rather, it creeps up on her. She has awoken the younger woman twice now in the night due to her concerns as to the Sea Witch's words, and, while the older woman's request would be despicably vile were it any _other_ soul to be treated in such a manner, when she is presented with the blonde's pretty features and begrudgingly endearing attitude, she finds herself sick to her stomach.

She likes Emma.

She really does.

 _Yes, but you_ love _Henry... And to get back to Henry you always knew you might have to make several sacrifices..._

"But to let Ursula and the others _touch_ her... _Play_ with her...?"

_I detest the idea._

Sniffing, she attempts to skirt cautiously past a new idea that blossoms poisonously to accompany her whispering.

_Jealousy._

It is a ridiculous notion, but one she is no longer able to overlook. Any hint made as to an amorous attachment or interest in the younger woman has had her scoffing at the very idea vehemently.

But she is crucially aware of the slick heat between her legs in response to the heated scene of her dream.

And that is perhaps what is most distressing.

* * *

When the water finally begins to run cold, the Queen shuts it off and climbs from the shower; wrapping herself in a towel. She had cleansed herself thoroughly, and, upon reaching the cleft between her legs- soap slipping over her need, causing well toned thighs to twitch- she had excised all thought of the blonde.

This becomes a little more difficult when she reenters the bedroom.

The Sheriff lies on her stomach with her cheek pillowed in the crook of her arm, her mouth slightly open as she takes in soft, just audible breaths. The bedspread lies crumpled in disarray, and Regina supposes the blonde must have kicked it from herself after falling back asleep in her absence. The lack of the blanket has the brunette noting with a shocked raising of her brows that the soft flesh of the younger woman's behind is entirely on display.

Frowning, it eventually dawns on her that she had glimpsed- and overlooked- a swatch of black fabric draped over the regal curve of the tap at the bathroom sink, and she comes to the slow realisation that the Sheriff must have taken the opportunity while bathing the previous evening to wash the sparse amount of clothing she still owns.

Blushing, she is unsure whether to laugh at the picture the younger woman presents to her, or scream.

Opting for a sensible medium, she proceeds to simply pluck at the discarded bedspread and pull it primly up to cover- really rather delectably toned- asscheeks, before turning to the closet in search for a new outfit.

* * *

"You never said how your talk with Ursula went?"

Regina jumps at the blonde's low drawl as she exits the bathroom in her newly acquired ensemble; deep scarlet silk wrapped and draped in a complex weave to accentuate her enviable figure.

A deep scowl as the Sheriff lets out a jocular wolf whistle, colour creeping across sun kissed cheeks.

"Well, when I got back upstairs you were snoring away, so..."

"I don't snore."

"How would you know?"

"I've shared a bed with a lot of people, and no one's ever complained."

Emma offers her a sly wink, and, although she knows it to be impossible, Regina can't help but feel that the younger woman is purposefully endeavouring to add insult to injury; her statement undeniably ambiguous and the way her long hair tousles as she sits up in bed wrapped in nothing but the covers begging the question of if this isn't the same sight those aforementioned 'people' may have been privy to upon waking.

"About your sleeping habits... Or?"

Her tone is excessively icy, but the blonde simply chuckles. She herself finds the conversation to be rather amusing; never having thought she would be playing a game of innuendos with the Mayor.

"Neither... Apart from maybe being accused of playing a little rough-"

"- _Ah!_ Enough! I don't want to know!"

Laughing wickedly, the Sheriff offers a decidedly evil smirk, before resting against the headboard and raising an eyebrow as she waits for the Queen to answer her original question.

Regina looks away; her mind a mess.

"... It went... I suppose it went just as well as _any_ conversation with Ursula was ever going to go..."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means... She... She hasn't told me what she wants yet..."

"Well then _that_ was a waste of time..."

Dark eyes flicker over to the blonde warningly, an angry scowl alighting fine features, but the younger woman's words are flippant, and she toys with a stray thread on the throw; oblivious.

"Maybe next time, _you_ should go and ask her..."

The anguish in the Mayor's voice is tangible, and Emma glances up at her in surprise, shaking her head and apologising swiftly.

"I didn't mean it like that... I just... _She's_ the one I'm pissed at, okay? You... Well, _you've_ been pretty fucking amazing ever since this all started."

"... Yes...Well... I wish to return to my son..."

"As do I... I was just hoping she'd have come up with whatever twisted thing she wanted is all."

"... Are you sure?... You're sure you're in such haste to hear what damned and depraved request that woman has to make?"

" _Of course!_ Are you saying you're _not_?"

"I'm merely suggesting your eagerness for an answer might suggest you don't quite comprehend the deviance of the Sea Witch."

"Maybe I don't... But it doesn't really _matter_ , right?"

"... It doesn't?"

"Well, no... I'll do whatever it takes to get home... Same as you."

"...Right."


	33. Chapter 33

Thick fingers trailing the scarred spine of the young woman in her lap, Ursula muses pensively as the mermaid feeds her dutifully. She is beginning to regret her talk with the brunette and offering her three days to come to a decision as to the blonde's fate; not a woman used to being kept waiting for what she wants. She is almost certain that Regina will comply, as there is very little option to decline, but she recognises Cora's pride in the dark Queen, and she has no doubt she will be kept waiting.

Waiting to play with the young blonde at the Soiree that is.

There is still the Gala she has invited the brunette to attend, and now that she thinks on it, she is tempted to request that the disgraced lost princess accompany her. Not as entertainment- that is not the deal she has proposed and she knows Regina would never allow such a thing- but as a guest.

Simply to observe her.

And to observe the Queen's _interactions_ with her.

...For there is something strange between the two women that has kept her mind ill at ease. Whilst at dinner their relationship had seemed simple; the brunette lacking in cruel dominance- but then the Sea Witch presumes she is a novice at such carnal ownership- but clearly possessing some form of hold on the skinny blonde. She had scolded her, humiliated her, bitten her, and yet...

She had seemed almost _reluctant_ to do so.

If it had been a simple case of not wishing to spoil her prize, that would at least have provided some form of explanation, but the girl had clearly suffered beatings prior to coming here; the resultant marks fading, but prominent.

Such hesitation to physically discipline the blonde on the occasions when it has been called for is indeed odd, but what the Sea Queen finds strangest of _all_ is the way the brunette looks upon her girl.

It is not a look of possession.

It is a look of care.

A look of care that is _reciprocated_.

She is believing more and more that there exists some form of alliance between the two women, despite Regina's adamant claims to the contrary.

Her _lies_ to the contrary.

And Ursula is not a woman to put up with such insubordinate deception.

* * *

It is not until the Sea Queen invites herself across the threshold that the brunette remembers her invitation to the evening's gala.

As it is, before Ursula enters, she sits at the vanity with her back to the Sheriff, having fallen moodily silent following Emma's uninformed declaration that she would be willing to do whatever it takes to get back to Henry. She brushes her hair with slow care, dark eyes flickering every now and then to the younger woman who sits up in bed, presumably deep in thought judging by the way she stares off into space. There had been a time not too long ago when the Mayor would have scoffed that such a vacant expression merely served to suit the level of activity taking place beneath messy curls, but she no longer thinks in such a way.

The blonde is sharp, she can just hide it exceptionally well.

 _Not_ that _sharp... Not with what she's unwittingly getting into._

Eyes glittering as she catches movement behind her, the Queen's breath catches in her throat as the Sheriff slips from the plush covers and disappears into the bathroom in a flash of pale flesh.

She scolds herself for playing voyeur through the glass.

_"She's... Attractive, yes"._

_Highly attractive... But then that's never been brought to question, no matter_ how _bitter our disputes became. She is a pretty girl..._

 _But to see_ all _of her... In_ both _senses of the phrase... She is more than that._

The squeak of the door as it is pushed open without invitation shakes her from her thoughts.

"Splendid, you're up."

"Good morning, Your Majesty..."

"Where's the girl?"

"... In the bathroom."

"Did she ask?"

"I... She is permitted to use the _bathroom_ if she needs to..."

Regina frowns; thrown off by the question.

"Get her."

As if on cue, Emma comes padding out of the bathroom, humming beneath her breath. Upon realizing they are not alone, she stops in her tracks, eyes flashing with fear in a way that causes the Witch to smirk.

Ursula doesn't miss the way sienna coals flicker apprehensively towards the girl, nor the way the blonde glances at the Mayor as if for guidance.

"Good morning..."

The Witch's tone is silky as she addresses the younger woman, and she muses that the girl must have at least _some_ intelligence to her with the distrustful gleam that alights her eyes; her greeting peculiar given her stature.

She smirks as Emma dips her head in an apprehensive bow.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

Low. Respectful. Submissive.

To the blonde's right, Regina hides a frown. Contrary to what she may have believed back in Storybrooke, she is not in favor of such defeated obedience from the Sheriff's tongue. It simply doesn't suit her.

At some point while in the bathroom, the blonde has donned what scrap of clothing she still has, and as she stands now with her head submissively bowed- long hair covering her breasts demurely- the brunette cant help but feel a little as though that in not telling Emma the deal she had discussed the previous evening with the poisonous woman standing before them, she is effectively leading a lamb to the slaughter.

 _But how do I tell her? How do I even_ try _and tell her...?_

"Were you wanting anything, Your Majesty?"

She works to keep her tone free from emotion; the words rolling off of her tongue naturally like syrup and her expression neutral. Ursula turns to give the Mayor her full attention, offering the darker woman a smile that has too many teeth.

"I'm going to take you to the dressing rooms, darling, as I daresay you won't want to show up at the gala dressed like _this_."

"The ga-?... Oh yes, of course. That is... That is most kind of you."

She allows a smile to grace her own full lips, making as if to follow the Sea Queen as the older woman turns to leave.

"Stay here."

She barks at Emma, who simply nods, looking slightly uncomfortable as she remains stood on the middle of the room.

Ursula turns back to regard the two women with a simpering flutter of her eyelashes.

"Oh, bring your girl, my love... I'm feeling _generous_."

"You... You wish for Em-... For the wretch to accompany us?"

The brunette succeeds in keeping her expression neutral, but the horror that graces the Sheriff's features would almost be comical under different circumstances.

"Well, as you continue to remind me; she is not one of my underlings, but ' _yours_ '. What better way to show her off?"

Dark warning alights the Queen's features, despite her need to tread carefully. Understanding the reasoning behind the threatening pull to the brunette's mouth, Ursula smiles, shaking her head as though Regina's caution is dreadfully droll.

"Oh, fret not, precious, tonight will be strictly 'look but don't touch'..."

Emma frowns at this and the Mayor finds herself biting her lip nervously; something she hasn't done since she was an infant.

"... You are kind..."

The Witch nods, turning once more for the door, and the others follow suit, Regina glancing back at the blonde nervously as the younger woman walks stiffly behind her.

* * *

"Divine."

Ursula drawls as the brunette reenters the large dressing room apprehensively. Regina is inclined to agree, having seen herself in the floor length mirror gracing the small room in which she had disappeared to change, but she dislikes the way heavily hooded eyes drink her in as though she were a prize to be won.

She wears a long black dress which seems to the naked eye to be fashioned from some sort of liquid or oil, rather than fabric. It glistens off her curves magnificently, cut in a low V almost to her navel and sculpted to pert breasts in a most flattering manner.

She purposefully avoids glancing at the blonde, though she is positive she feels Emma's cool green gaze intensely upon her.

"Thank you for saying so."

The Witch sidles over and begins fussing with the fall of the hem, think fingers brushing over slender hips and thighs with unnecessary frequency.

"I believe it hangs well enough."

Regina states primly, and the Sea Queen steps back with a smirk, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue.

"Oh, it does, dearest."

Sniffing arrogantly, the brunette turns to leave and change back into her regular attire, catching the Sheriff's stare as the younger woman observes her as though mesmerized.

She offers her a small smile.

"And you..."

Both Emma and Regina look up as the Witch addresses the blonde, neither one having thought the offer to play dress up was extended to the younger woman. Observing the way the blonde's eyes light up at the idea, the brunette cringes, both at the fact that it has reached the point where the typically headstrong Sheriff would find happiness in the simple offer of clothing, and because she is forced to realise that Emma still hasn't grasped just how badly things could go for her.

_Careful, dear._

Watching in apprehension as the Sea Queen visually devours the blonde, the Mayor tears herself away, disappearing to change.

When she stalks back into the room, she finds herself stopping in her tracks as her gaze falls upon the Sheriff. The younger woman stands awkwardly with her arms out as the Witch threads ribbon through eyelets that line the back of a disarmingly pretty white dress; the back open so that the ribbon sits flush on flesh. There is something alarmingly innocent about the garment and Regina finds herself looking swiftly away.

Ursula moves to stand beside her, leaving the Sheriff stood as though on display in the middle of the room.

"I trust she meets your approval?"

Words thick with knowing, and the brunette doesn't need to look up to know that the older woman is grinning.

Forcing herself to acknowledge the blonde, she keeps her face expressionless as Emma raises an eyebrow with a small grin; hopeful for the Queen's approval.

"... Lovely."


	34. Chapter 34

"It'll be okay... You look... You look amazing..."

A low murmur close to the Queen's ear, and she can feel the blonde's hair ghosting against her shoulder- a hand momentarily at her waist as Emma whispers- before her own fingers, which she rests hesitantly on the brass door pull to the Ballroom, tighten and turn; the festivities below spilling out to engulf them whole.

'It will be okay' is a sentence she has been growing ever so slightly weary of; the Sheriff repeating it over and over to her over the course of the past few hours.

When they had returned to Regina's bedroom in their gala attire, the brunette had strived to divert her attention elsewhere as the younger woman had sat carefully down on the bed; wary of crumpling her dress in way that just hadn't suited her. Indeed, the Queen had found herself thinking that- against all previous beliefs- she couldn't help but miss the younger woman's dratted leathers.

In her leather and jeans she had looked tough.

Hell, in her goddamn _underwear_ she had managed to look tough!

But, now...

Well, now she looks something else entirely, and the clear improvement in Emma's spirits since her slender frame has become once more thankfully covered, has had the direct opposite effect on the Queen.

For Regina, the situation doesn't seem to harbour all that much to smile about.

However, regardless of her unease, it had at first been the Mayor insisting that their upcoming evening was nothing to fret over, as the Sheriff had expressed her apprehensive surprise that she was to be part of the arrangement. But, as she had then sought to explain and warn the blonde on what kind of behaviour would likely be expected from the two of them, her jaw had become nervously clenched and her chest tight.

In all honesty, she hadn't had a _clue_ what to say to console the Sheriff, but then, it is an odd little habit she has found within herself just recently that she should feel the need to do this at all.

As it is, it has since then been Emma who has taken on the role this afternoon of telling her nervously that all would be well.

That it's all going to be just fine.

And she has _continued_ to tell her so, right up until now, as they stand mesmerised on an ornate balconette; looking down into the throws of festivity and extravagance below.

Only... This last time it's different, and the Queen is sure she feels a warmth at her side where pale fingers had rested against her softly.

Turning to the blonde, she looks her swiftly up and down before offering her a small smile.

"Ready?"

Emma nods, careful to keep her eyes cast down at the darker woman's feet; aware that though they stand alone save for sentries at the top of the stairs, they are visible, and therefore likely being watched.

"Showtime..."

She mutters quietly, but Regina makes the word out easily enough.

She smiles.

That's _exactly_ what this is.

She takes the lead; turning on a sharp heel towards the stairs with Emma following along in her wake. Her dark eyes dart around the large hall with interest, and she feels a peculiar sense of homesickness for a time long gone, at least for herself.

The patrons that dance and converse and indulge in the ballroom are dressed to impress, and she notes that even counting the servers on hand to assist behind the buffet tables, not one of the merefolk that grace the scene is exposed in the way she has come begrudgingly accustomed to.

_Curious._

Curious indeed, for as she studies the guests closest to her when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, they carry an air of aristocracy and importance. All of them, that is, bar one... Amongst the group of men and women to which her attention has fallen, she notes that the youngest of the females- a girl of no more that eighteen, she is sure- behaves in a more reserved fashion. She stands beside a tall man with long, silver hair, and simply nods politely as the others fall victim to gales of laughter brought on by the goblets they hold in their hands. Her dress is slightly shorter, and noticeably simpler than that of the other women, and beneath her left eye lingers the fading yellow tinge of a bruise.

When her silver-haired companion turns to her and murmurs low into her ear, she nods, before hurrying off to a long table lining the back of the room on which manny more goblets await.

There is a bite mark on her right shoulder blade.

The man who had spoken to her wears a ring on which the kingdom's crest is recreated from precious stone.

_"Bring your girl... I'm feeling generous..."_

Regina's eyes widen with understanding.

The girl is his.

His prize.

_He is clearly a man of importance in regards to the Sea Queen. He too has been allowed to bring his... His spoils._

Turning to Emma, she speaks quietly, but makes no pretence of the act in the way she has previously.

"If you continue to look down at the floor that way, you're sure to walk into someone, dear."

Green eyes flash up to regard her in confusion, but she smirks as she catches a hint or irritability at her own contrary warning. Full lips softening into a kinder smile, she allows a minimal tilt of her jaw towards the direction from which the young woman she'd been watching comes hurrying back with a fresh goblet held carefully in her small hand.

"The girl in the blue dress over there isn't one of Ursula's own guests. She belongs to the man she gives that drink to, look..."

The blonde glances over towards the small group of people amongst which the young girl has come to rest once more and frowns, turning back to Regina and addressing her in a similarly hushed tone to that which the brunette has been using.

"Like me?"

"Well... I doubt the situation is _entirely_ the same, but she is not of the same standing as the others over there."

"Huh..."

Emma allows, raising an eyebrow in faint curiosity, but clearly not understanding the reason why the Mayor should be bringing this to her attention. Sighing, the brunette motions that the Sheriff move to walk beside her as she makes her way towards the tables at the back of the room; meandering around those choosing to dance.

"She is dressed differently from the others- only slightly, but noticeably- as are you, dear... But she is still permitted to hold her head high and interact this evening, and I would urge you to do the same. Have some food, and have a drink or two... Seeing as the opportunity has presented itself, Sheriff..."

"I'm sorry, did you actually just consent- no, _urge_ \- me to have a drink?"

Glittering green, and the Queen rolls her eyes so as to hide the small grin that threatens to creep across full lips.

Tossing her dark locks back arrogantly, she regards the blonde with a tight smile.

"I'm merely suggesting that seeing as though for tonight you seem to be permitted to be treated as though human, you may wish to take advantage of the fact."

She feels momentarily cruel due to her wording, despite knowing that the Sheriff doesn't think her to be of the opinion that she should be treated as something lower- worthless- but Emma proceeds to smile at her with a curious hint of wickedness.

"I thought I was _yours_ to decide what will and will not be permitted... What I should take advantage of..."

The blonde's words hit the Queen directly to her core, and her sex clenches as she catches the mocking gleam dancing beneath long, dusky lashes.

"You are... Which is why I, too, will permit it..."

Husky laughter broken up by a sudden intake of breath as Regina's hand finds her upper arm and pulls her towards the back of the room; the darker woman's warm touch affecting her as though receiving an electric shock.

_Damn it Swan! Get a fucking grip!_

"You know, this whole thing has been one crazy ride, but I have to say; attending some fancy ass party- in a dress- pretending to be your 'bitch' date, _really_ is the cherry on top..."

She mutters the words low into the brunette's ear as they walk, and Regina smirks beside her, before placing a hand gently at her waist and watching pretty, green eyes widen in surprise.

"As you said, dear... Show time."


	35. Chapter 35

_"As you said, dear... Showtime."_

The blonde blinks, knowing deep down she shouldn't continue to feel such surprise as the Queen beats her at her own game. She had known her comment as to the brunette's ownership of her- despite simply being a part of their ongoing ruse- would garner _some_ sort of response.

That said, she will be the first to admit that her grasp on another's feelings are perhaps just as hit and miss as she herself can be rather emotionally stunted, but she is beginning to believe Regina might be becoming ever so slightly affected by their current situation.

She hopes so.

She doesn't want it to be just herself.

But no, she has caught some of the lingering glances the Mayor has offered her when thinking such observations were going unnoticed, and she's fairly sure that Regina has little objection to what she sees.

_Interesting..._

However, while her comment had been rather forward with its subtext; sarcasm and teasing are things she does well.

The hand that rests at her waist is something with which she has a little less practice.

It surprises her that the brunette should make such a move in public. For it to be a necessity when standing before Ursula she can understand, but to be shown such public intimacy here in the ballroom when it has not been asked of by the Sea Queen is something else entirely.

Regina seems to sense her confusion- dark eyes glittering with amusement as she takes in the peculiar battle of emotions playing across pale features- and she decides to put the Sheriff out of her misery for the last time tonight. In doing so, she hopes Emma will finally relax a little; the blonde's giddy taunting and fretting giving her a slight headache as she strives to anticipate which emotion it is she's to be awarded with next.

"Look around you, dear; I am doing nothing uncouth in the eyes of these people. See how they act towards one another... Things are different here, Emma, as you well know, and while Ursula doesn't stand here before us, it is not just the Sea Witch who has such salacious tastes..."

The blonde does as she's told; peering around the room with interest as she watches hands wander between the dancers, and lips whispering close into receptive ears much like the Mayor does in her own now. It wouldn't take a particularly keen voyeur to deduce that the inhabitants of the Land below Water are a sexual people, and she is curiously reminded of the common characteristics attributed unto vampires in literature back in her own land.

There is a heavy thrum of communal arousal which sits thick in the air, and her mind throws her a most disconcerting image, and she isn't quite sure if it depicts a feeding frenzy or some sort of wildly debauched orgy.

Her cheeks pinken.

The hand at her waist seems to be giving off a ridiculous amount of heat.

_Fine. I can play._

"Hmm... Seems as though we'll have to up our game, then..."

She turns her body slightly as she whispers in the brunette's ear, and Regina quickly admonishes herself not to react as, in the blonde doing so, her fingers are unwittingly caused to brush against soft silk to touch the Sheriff a little lower on the hip.

"How so?"

But she imagines she has a fairly good idea; the small smile playing across pleasantly pink lips as the blonde steps away rather telling.

_Showtime indeed, Miss Swan._

She is mildly surprised that Emma has seemingly settled on teasing rather than putting up her walls completely when faced with the choice of how to proceed with the evening, but then she supposes she has been proven wrong by the younger woman before. That said, she has caught glimpses of the Sheriff's compliance in the few times she has been expected to act out a more obvious scene of their supposed hierarchy, but the fact that it is without threat that the blonde looks at her in the way she does now causes her breath to catch before her full lips adopt a cruel smirk.

_She's playing. She can deal with this if she makes it a game. If we're playing a game of Chicken as we once did..._

"We have a role to uphold, do we not?"

"Indeed we do, dear."

_Your move, Sheriff..._

And just like that, the smug flirtatiousness that had alighted sharp features so invitingly is replaced once more by the shy innocence the younger woman has been careful to hone to perfection over the past few days, only this time, Regina can't help but feel it is less a case of being a good actress, but rather one of Emma being quite the little minx indeed.

_She can't have you._

The Mayor blinks as the words crawl not red, but green across her mind. There is no worry, no concern within them, for now is not the time- she cares about the blonde and how she is to be treated a great deal she has come to find, but this isn't about the Sheriff, it's about her- and right now she is jealous. Possessive.

 _She can't have you, because_ I _want you._

_You're mine._

She watches as the Sheriff turns to the table laden with drinks- spine rippling against the pale skin of her back, fractured by the brilliant white of her ribbons- and returns with a silver goblet; handing it to her with a small dip of her head which reminds the Queen of her old guard.

"Are you not going to have one also?"

She is curious; she has commented snidely on the blonde's fondness for the bottle on several occasions, but has had no real knowledge to back up such claims. She had just assumed Emma to be the sort. Now though, she raises an eyebrow in question, the Sheriff continuing to keep her subdued and submissive composure, but green eyes flickering up to hold her gaze, before moving pointedly to the glass held between slim fingers.

The brunette takes a sip of potent wine, keeping her attention trained intently on the blonde. Licking her lips a little slower than necessary, she shows understanding to Emma's game and holds out the goblet so that the younger woman may be permitted to drink.

The Sheriff takes the drink from her obediently, watching as a small drop of wine trickles slowly down from the rim where the Queen had pressed her lips only moments ago. Using a deft swipe of her tongue, she catches it easily, glancing up as she finishes the act; sharp white teeth catching on the rim of the goblet as she meets dark eyes flickering with fire.

She doesn't break eye contact as she takes a long drink.

Regina swallows.

_So we're really doing this..._

Taking the cup as the blonde still holds it to her mouth, she does so gently, smiling as the younger woman obliges submissively and licks her lips. She reaches forward to tuck long, golden hair behind the Sheriff's left ear and this earns her a small, yet audible intake of breath.

She smirks, her eyes lingering on softly parted lips.

Finishing the remains of the goblet as she tips it back, exposing the tantalising column of her throat, she doesn't need to look at her to know that Emma studies her intently.

When she finishes, she hands the younger woman her glass with an air of arrogance, and Emma takes it graciously, inquiring in that low drawl the Queen had once found so irksome, but now can't help but find pleasure in the soft rasp it lends some of her words

"Another... Your Majesty?"

The title from the Sheriff's lips illicits a debauched shiver for which the brunette vows she will later seek revenge.

Shaking her head, she decides to take matters into her own hands, placing not one, but two hands at the blonde's waist and speaking to her so low that her lips brush the delicate flesh of the younger woman's ear.

"I'm hungry."

She smirks as she feels Emma shudder beneath her touch, and she strikes a bold move in retaliation; nipping ever so slightly at the Sheriff's earlobe.

A sharp gasp.

"Come..."

She pulls the younger woman over to one of the nearby buffet tables; her smile widening as the blonde consents without word.

Her smile falters somewhat when the younger woman leans across her- warm breath ghosting against the bare flesh of her arm- and pulls a small bunch of fruit from the table.

"Let me help you with that..."

Low, and the Sheriff's tongue flickers between her teeth as she speaks, stepping in until she stands unnaturally close.

Plucking a ripe morsel from the stem between her fingers, the blonde flashes a small smile, before offering the fruit up between them pointedly.

The same way she has seen Ursula's playthings do to the Sea Queen herself.

Dark brows arch in surprise, before Regina leans forwards and plucks the fruit from between the blonde's fingertips; brushing delicate whorls with her teeth.

"Very good..."

Emma smirks; the brunette's words ambiguous as to whether they are directed towards her act or to the situation.

She simply offers up another piece of fruit.

And then another.

"Perfect..."

As the night draws on, they continue with their charade; the Queen feeding from between delicate fingers as she allows the Sheriff small sips from her drinks, and slow nibbles of the delicacies she leaves half eaten between the younger woman's fingers.

As the crowds begin to slowly disperse and the wine has begun to affect them both, she changes tactics; plucking the goblet from the blonde and proffering it gently against soft lips with a small smile as the younger woman complies and allows her to tip it back gently.

Watching the Sheriff's throat ripple, she feels a dull ache in her groin, and when Emma next places a morsel of food deftly between her lips, she keeps it there invitingly; leaning forwards purposefully with the offering, before sharp white teeth taste the morsel while delicately brushing against her lips.

Neither woman aware of sharp eyes studying their ever more intimate display.


	36. Chapter 36

By the time they find themselves pushing at the door to the brunette's bed chambers, Regina has come to the curious conclusion that she's really rather tipsy indeed. It is not a state in which she often finds herself- never really being one to resort to drink- but the warm thrum of her vitality and the curious sensation Emma's close proximity seems to be having on her leads the Queen to believe that this is very much the case.

As it is, the blonde doesn't seem to be fairing all that much better. She has indulged less than the Mayor- having drunken only what the brunette has offered her- but, despite being far better versed with the bottle, the past couple of weeks have taken their toll on her, and she has lost weight as well as blood.

That said, it is not a sloppy, nor unaware drunkenness that has taken either of them, and when Emma pushes the door gently shut behind them and makes her way to the middle of the room, she does so with as much grace as she is ever likely to possess.

Regina looks up at her as she takes a seat on the bed; her lips tingling with the memory of where the younger woman's own had brushed so sweetly, and she wonders now if it had been just herself finding it hard not to drop all pretence of feeding the blonde and deepen the act to a kiss. She doesn't _think_ this to be the case, but as she eyes the Sheriff now in the privacy of their bedroom, she is wary of approaching the subject.

She is a woman that takes what she wants, but enough has passed between them that she doesn't wish to 'take' from the blonde if the younger woman doesn't will it.

_Leave that to the others..._

_No._

_Hush now._

But she is curious. At first, she had thought her strange pull towards the Sheriff tonight had been the result of whatever mixed emotions Ursula's ultimatum and her own sordid dreaming have worked to conjure, but the longer she'd observed the blonde and allowed her welcome warmth to brush against her fingertips, the more she can't help but think that her sudden infatuation is the sum of many greater parts.

That this most peculiar attraction stems from a time long before she had healed the younger woman after snipping her free from her clothing.

"Emma..."

The blonde glances down at her amiably and offers up a slightly crooked smile, and all of a sudden she decides that this is madness.

 _She_ may find herself curiously enamoured with the Sheriff, but the idea that this is somehow some sort of _mutual_ interest is a dangerous one. Emma knows what has become expected of her, and she has played her part with admirable affect. To look too deeply into her tentative advances would be foolish, and the Queen is most certainly no fool.

"Nevermind."

Pushing herself briskly from the bed, she moves in the direction of the bathroom to change out of her dress; thinking for a moment that she should warn the younger woman to treat the white silk she wears with care, but deciding Emma has at least an inkling of common sense and can probably figure this much out for herself.

Besides, right now she doesn't really want to discuss de-robing with the blonde as her sex thrums maddeningly.

"Okay..."

Green eyes watch her go, and the Sheriff frowns at the hurry the brunette shows in escaping into the privacy of the bathroom. She is mildly hurt, though she tells herself not to be ridiculous, as she had been of the tentative opinion that things had been going well between the two of them.

 _Very_ well, actually.

The first time she had held a morsel up for Regina to taste, she had worried that she was perhaps taking things a little too far- copying the act from the Sea Queen's own servants, but really just enjoying the giddy energy shared with the Mayor- but after the brunette had responded to her little game with the goblet so indulgently, it had seemed worth the risk.

And it had been.

She can still taste the slight medicinal tang of the darker woman's lipstick on her own lips- though she imagines this might just be her imagination humouring her loins- and her heart beats just a little faster as she recalls the way warm breath had played over her skin when she'd lent in to take the food from the Queen's mouth.

It's not just _that_ though. She is _sure_ she has caught Regina looking at her without knowing such glances were going noticed, and she is _just_ as sure that she understands the appreciative fire that had danced so enticingly within dark eyes as they'd lingered on her a little longer than perhaps necessary.

Yes, there are aspects to their interactions over the past few days that have been for the benefit of Ursula and whatever fucked up fancies she may possess, but the Queen carries an extraordinary beauty- as potent as poison- and the way such magnetism has affected her internally is not a part of any act.

The darker woman is divine.

Has _always_ been aesthetically alluring, in fact, but to now be spared the venom of her hate makes it dangerously easy to fall prey to such beauty. Not the _worst_ fate in the world, by any means, but then that was when she had believed they shared a similar interest.

Before she'd been left standing confused and alone in the middle of their bedroom.

_We do, though. I may not be the world's most empathetic person, but I know what I felt. That electricity... It isn't a one-sided deal. She felt it too._

Her frown deepens; sure she is right, but no more willing to look the fool than the brunette.

_No... But nobody ever got anything without trying..._

She sighs. Most of the time, she is not someone to instigate social or romantic situations; not so much out of awkwardness as such, but rather due to simply preferring to spend as little time dealing with others as possible. That said, she will be the first to admit that possessing a fairly dominant apathetic streak doesn't hurt her in her 'live and let live' attitude either...

...But when she _wants_ something... Well, when she _wants_ something she is stubborn- has _always_ been stubborn- and right now she wants Regina- or at least to understand the curious chemistry sparking between them- and she's not going to let the brunette condemn her to yet another night of surreal wet dreams and unspoken no man's land between the two of them.

Enough is enough.

_The worst thing she can do is say 'no'..._

She chuckles to herself; fully aware that in possession of her powers, there is no telling as to what the _worst_ the Queen could do to her might be, and she rolls her eyes in self-exhasperation as she finds herself shivering with something other than fear at the notion.

"For fuck's sake, Swan..."

"Talking to yourself, dear?"

Regina quips as she slips back into view in a welcome haze of indigo and flesh. She looks down at the delicate fabric folded carefully in her hands as she speaks, before glancing up to find the Sheriff in much the same state as she'd left her.

"Were you planning on taking that off, or are you finding yourself too taken with ribbons and silk?"

Emma offers no reply as the brunette stalks past her to place her own discarded dress over the back of a chair, and when the Queen turns back to face her, the darker woman raises an eyebrow in open curiosity.

The blonde simply looks at her; lashes dark and pupils darker.

"Any time tonight, Miss Swan, only I'd feel rude switching off the lights with you standing in the middle of the room quite so gormlessly."

But her words are low; her eyes sharp as she keeps them locked on the Sheriff's own, and she finds herself wetting her bottom lip with her tongue as she waits for Emma to explain herself.

The younger woman mimics her, before turning around to face the wall.

"Would you mind helping me with the ribbon?"

Quiet. Husky. Low.

And _entirely_ out of character.

Regina frowns, but her eyes glitter brilliantly beneath sooty lashes. It is not lost on her that the woman standing before her had only a week ago been _adamant_ that she could do anything and everything herself, despite her poor physical condition. What help she had been forced to take from the Queen had quite visibly been a difficult lesson in dependency to swallow, and yet now she has both her strength and her spunk back, she asks for help without even _trying_ to deal with the problem herself.

Walking slowly towards the Sheriff, the brunette moves with the stealth of a predator closing on their prey, her footsteps inaudible due to the plush carpet, and when she places her hands lightly- oh, so very lightly- at the blonde's waist, the latter emits a quiet gasp of surprise.

"You couldn't do this yourself?"

The Mayor purrs as she works with a slowness that is beautifully cruel to untie the knot at the base of the younger woman's spine, and begins to pluck softly at brilliant white satin.

Emma doesn't answer her, and she chuckles with dark amusement. Deciding to test the waters just a little bit deeper, she skims her fingers lightly across pale shoulder blades; scooping up the long sheaf of the younger woman's hair, and laying it carefully over her shoulder to expose the delicate vertebrae at the top of her spine.

She blonde shivers.

_Curious..._

Regina smirks, absentmindedly aware of the physical proof of her own excitement as she feels it dampening her thighs; her arousal greatly heightened as the vague and muddled thought goes through her mind that she wears nothing beneath her slip.

She finishes loosening the dress.

The seconds that pass once her task is complete are tangible in their static tension; both women aware that the _logical_ thing to occur next would be for Emma to hold the loosened silk to her body to stop it from slipping down to expose her before she has a chance to crawl beneath the covers.

The Sheriff makes no such move.

Raising an eyebrow, the Queen lets go; allowing virginal white to fall open, before gravity takes its toll and the soft silk slides slowly from the younger woman's slender frame, making a dull, airy sound as it gathers in a heap around her ankles.

"...What now, Miss Swan?"

* * *

Frowning as her explicit bliss is fractured by an authoritative rapping at her chamber door, the Sea Queen seethes angrily at the audacity of being disturbed at this hour. She is mean with wine, and drunk with power; having taken her pick of the guests at the gala to fall to their new rank for the night in doing her bidding. When the knocking fails to desist, she pushes the trembling young woman roughly from her; the little wretch so recently suckling at her- while her fingers had moved to the harsh instruction of her begrudged mistress- curling up on the floor in fear as heavy footsteps sweep past her and the Witch makes for the door.

"Yes?"

"Queen Ursula, we have something we must discuss."

Rage wavering as she understands she plays unwilling submissive within her current company, the Sea Witch offers a simpering smile, her tone rich and falsely amiable when she speaks.

"Can't it wait? The hour is late, and we have all of us indulged beyond any means of discussing business."

"I'm afraid not. It's about your honoured guest."

"Queen Regina?"

"And her girl."

"... Fine. Come in."


	37. Chapter 37

_"... What now, Miss Swan?"_

The Queen's inquiry is but a low rasp as she hovers her hands precariously close to bare flesh, but doesn't quite allow herself to touch. True, the state in which Emma now stands is no different to the way she has been dressed for the past couple of days, but this is different- _entirely_ different- and, for the first time, the brunette allows her attention to wander without pretence as her breath remains light on the back of the younger woman's neck.

"...What do you want to do to me?"

Carefully free from any obvious emotion, but husky and openly curious.

_What do you want to do to me. Not 'what do you want from me?'. Not 'what do you want me to do?'..._

_What do you want to do to me?..._

_She's testing the waters... She doesn't want this to be a misunderstanding..._

Breath catching, the Mayor leans in so that she stands completely flush with the blonde- her breasts brushing against the soft skin of Sheriff's back- and when she speaks low into the delicate shell of the younger woman's ear, she allows her fingers to come to rest at the blonde's waist, stroking bare flesh gently.

"Why, whatever do you mean, dear-"

Eyebrows raising in momentary surprise as the Sheriff turns around abruptly in her arms, the Queen moves her hands to clutch and paw at the younger woman's back as the latter crashes soft lips wantonly against her own. Pale fingers lose themselves within her hair, and she deepens their kiss possessively as her heart hammers madly in her chest.

Demanding entrance, the Mayor pinches at the taut flesh of the younger woman's oblique muscles appreciatively as her tongue is sweetly accepted to explore and battle against the blonde's own.

Somewhere in the cobwebbed crawlspace of her mind she conjures the image of an apple, and the vague and unwelcome knowledge that the woman who currently runs her hand playfully up between them and palms at the soft round of her breast is Emma Swan- cheap, stubborn, common as mud, irksome, insufferable Sheriff Swan; a woman whom, if things had gone according to plan, would be lying comatose back in Storybrooke right now while she herself remained in sole possession of their son- plagues her thoughts for a brief moment.

But then nimble fingers slip beneath the soft cotton of her slip, and devilishly dark eyes shoot open in surprise as the younger woman cups her sex.

Sensing the brunette's sudden shock, Emma pulls back tentatively- cheeks flushed and lips kiss swollen- to regard the Mayor warily.

"I... I'm sorry, I thought..."

She pulls her hand back nervously- fingers glistening with the Queen's arousal- and hides it shyly behind her back.

Regina growls, taking a bold step forward and brushing her own hand up the pale skin of the blonde's thigh until her fingers play lightly over the tattered remains of the Sheriff's underwear.

"You thought _what_ , dear?"

"Nothing... I wasn't sure if you... If you didn't... I-"

"-Hush."

Claiming the younger woman's lips much more gently this time, she turns the two of them around and begins backing the Sheriff towards the bed as her fingers get caught up once more in the intrinsic nightmare of golden curls.

When the backs of the blonde's knees hit the mattress, she pulls away to give the older woman a questioning look as though for approval, and the Queen offers a small nod, waiting as the Sheriff clambers onto the bed. The way she does so is oddly tentative, and Regina supposes that under any other circumstance she would find the way long limbs crawl back awkwardly on the plush covers rather amusing, but as it is her eyes flash to pale flesh and the sublime ripple of sinewy muscle as the younger woman settles herself against the headboard; her expression curiously shy in juxtaposition to her previous smug flirtation.

Emma blushes as dark eyes roam over her in a way that leads her to conclude that Regina has indeed spared her several appreciative glances before now; her own eyes darting about the room with giddy nervousness at being so openly studied, before she forces herself to look back at the Mayor and tosses her long hair back with the peculiar air of arrogance the Queen had once hated so vehemently.

But it is not the arrogance of superiority.

It is simply a cold defiance against being looked down upon, and Regina has long since decided it suits her just fine.

Offering the younger woman a measured look, the brunette plucks at the indigo cotton of her nightdress and slips it slowly up over her head to fall in a small heap at her feet, shaking out her hair before tucking it back into place.

She smirks at the look of awe that alights pale features, but negates to chide the blonde for her open perversion.

Instead she climbs gracefully up onto the bed until she kneels over the Sheriff; smiling when Emma studies her with wide eyes, and leaning in to capture soft lips once more.

She moves in such a way that she wordlessly forces the blonde to recline fully on the bed, straddling her gently so that her wetness dampens tattered cotton as the Sheriff's heat causes her to let out a small sound of pleasure as her kiss is eagerly reciprocated.

_What on earth are we doing? This is madness!..._

But with the way the Sheriff links skinny arms loosely around her neck and moves salaciously beneath her, she is positive that this is something which has been brewing between them potently towards this point of breaking.

Moving a slim thigh to rest between Emma's own, the Mayor shivers at the guttural response this earns her low in her ear, and she finds herself once more surprised when her act is flawlessly followed by the blonde adjusting the position of her own leg to apply glorious friction in return.

_You've done this before..._

Most likely, but she doesn't deem this to be the time to ask, and in all honesty, she has little interest in what acts the Sheriff has practiced with other women- or men- as this is the here and now, and her interest is carnally selfish. Let it simply suffice that the younger woman seems to have her talents very much down in the bedroom.

This notion is seconded when Emma unhooks one of her arms from around slim shoulders and sends skilled fingers exploring between them, the Queen groaning as her nipple is tweaked none too gently and cruel fingernails dig into her shoulder to create faint half-moon indents in perfect flesh.

" _Ah!_ "

Pushing herself up to regard the Sheriff with a frown, she glances at her shoulder with ill-bridled anger, and the younger woman bites her bottom lip as she follows the direction of the Mayor's gaze.

"Sorry..."

Emma mutters awkwardly, before adopting a slow smile that has the brunette raising an eyebrow with sordid curiosity; the blonde's lips promising pure evil.

_Quite the schizophrenic, aren't you, dear?_

"What's tickling you...?"

But her air of well-practiced aloof disdain is brought crumbling down when the Sheriff abruptly wrestles her flush and whispers hotly in her ear while her free hand moves down to find slick folds.

"I beseech thee for thy forgiveness, my Queen..."

Husky words descend into throaty laughter as she attempts to pull at the darker woman to find her lips once more.

Regina, however, remains wide-eyed, the blonde's gravelly whisper having struck her right to her core, and it is all she can do but to keep her composure and ride out the faint fluttering of her sex- in no way helped by slim fingers that stroke and tease but cruelly refuse to enter her- for which she plans to seek harsh revenge.

Sitting up properly, she regards the Sheriff pensively, and this time, rather than nervous guilt, she is met with glittering green and that ever smug, sarcastic smile. Allowing her gaze to wander openly, she sniffs as though bored, before replying with measured silkiness.

"Do you really think it's _wise_ to play that game, dear?"

"... You tell me... I would have thought you would be all for the idea of owning a prize...Doing what you wanted with her..."

A small dimple at the side of the younger woman's mouth as she drawls hotly; clearly enjoying her sordid mocking.

But the Queen is not one to be mocked.

Leaning down so that she hovers nose to nose with the blonde, Regina whispers; pure malice.

"Be careful what you wish for..."

"Is that a threat?"

"It should be... What makes you think you could _take_ the things I could... That I _would_ do to you...?"

An ill-hidden shudder, and the brunette closes her eyes as the younger woman dips her middle finger sweetly into her need before abruptly removing her hand and replying hoarsely.

"Do your worst..."


	38. Chapter 38

"Do your worst..."

Looking down at the Sheriff, the brunette opens her mouth to offer up a retort as to how foolish the younger woman sounds requesting such a thing, but when she finds herself staring intently into blown green, she understands that this is about more than just this evening. This is about every caustic retort and heated look the two of them have shared since the blonde trespassed into the Mayor's life. It is about the impossible rage and wishful violence the older woman has felt. It's an invite.

It's raw.

Raising an eyebrow, Regina keeps her silence, rocking her hips ever so slightly so that the tattered cotton of the Sheriff's underwear offers delicious friction against her need.

The younger woman's eyes are wide, and despite her raspy request for punishment, there is still a hint of apprehension that dances behind sooty lashes, and a nervousness she is unable to mask from sharp features. Such tentative caution has Queen thinking back to her dream, but the thought doesn't alarm her quite as much as she imagines it should. She is by now adamant that Emma is her own, and as they lie here together, they are mercifully alone, and what cruel violence her subconscious had imagined her administering unto the blonde now seems more like a sordid promise as kiss-swollen lips urge her to inflict whatever darkness she desires.

"As you wish."

And she offers a small smile as she lets the words drip from her tongue, wondering if perhaps she should ask the blonde if they might try to agree on a safe-word, but deeming the question too crass to vocalise. This is a most peculiar situation and she doesn't wish to instil second thoughts in the younger woman.

She knows Emma well enough to understand this is more likely to be caused by her _words_ than her actions.

Leaning forwards, she brushes her lips against the blonde's once more, this time continuing on and trailing her attention lower; grazing perfect teeth against the exquisitely vulnerable column of the Sheriff's throat. Biting down, she tests the waters; increasing the pressure she applies with her teeth slowly in a curious bid to assess the younger woman's tolerance for pain.

Breath coming in harsh, broken gasps, her muscles flex sporadically before, finally, the blonde cracks.

" _Ah!_ "

It is a choked cry, and the brunette leans back to regard her with interest; dark eyes flickering from gritted teeth and dusky lashes squeezed tightly shut, to the angry mark she has created just below Emma's jaw. The flesh there glistens wetly from her tongue and is sure to form a dark bruise, much like the slow fading mark a little lower courtesy of her role-play down at dinner.

Pressing her finger to the newer of the two bite marks, she watches as the Sheriff takes her bottom lip between her teeth and opens her eyes slowly to regard her with pained arousal.

She shivers.

_You are my prize..._

The thought fills her with a red lust, and suddenly she knows there's no turning back now. Emma has brought this onto her herself with her impish goading as to their perceived roles and her brazen request to feel the Queen's wrath, and that is _exactly_ what she's about to get.

For now she is a princess.

The Queen's princess.

_Mine._

Hooking her fingers deftly into the tattered waistband of the Sheriff's underwear, the brunette drags flimsy fabric slowly down; hissing darkly ' _up_ ' into the younger woman's ear as an order for her to lift skinny hips and free ruined cotton.

Emma complies wordlessly.

Moving out of the way, Regina slides the last garment left between them slowly down pale legs, watching the blonde observe her movements with glittering, blown intrigue. Tossing the useless scrap of fabric carelessly to the floor, the darker woman takes a hold of slim ankles and yanks hard to pull the Sheriff- chuckling in surprise- further down the bed so that she lies flat without the support of the pillow.

"Silence."

Her tone is laced with authoritative reprimand, and the younger woman does as she's told without a second thought on the matter.

 _Well now_ that's _new..._

Full lips form a cruel smirk; the Mayor relishing her dominant position over the blonde as the latter lifts her head to regard her quizzically; aching to know what's coming next.

Climbing from plush covers, the Queen moves to the head of the bed and looks down at the Sheriff with an intense darkness that has the younger woman swallowing nervously.

"What are you going to do...?"

Slim fingers fly towards the blonde's face, and she flinches as though she believes the darker woman means to slap her, but the brunette does no such thing. Taking hold of the younger woman's jaw with cruel force, Regina leans in close and addresses the Sheriff coldly.

"I told you to shut up."

She catches a brief flicker of irritation cross the blonde's pale features, but is rewarded with careful obedience nonetheless, and she supposes such out of character compliance on Emma's part may have a strong correlation with the wanton clenching of her own sex as she continues to hover predatorily over the Sheriff.

"Good girl."

Words she is sure would have the younger woman riled up instantly under any normal circumstance, but which now fall from her lips unchallenged.

She allows the blonde to taste her before pulling away.

"Lie still."

As the Queen climbs up onto the bed and gracefully manoeuvres one leg up and over the Sheriff, she spares a brief thought as to whether she is taking things too far- sure from Emma's earlier reactions that the younger woman has had at least _some_ experience with the fairer sex, but understanding that the brushing of lips and a few clumsy caresses are a far cry from the position she proposes now- but she is almost positive that their intentions are unified.

She is proven right when the only sign of discomfort the Sheriff shows is moving her head slightly; the brunette's knees cushioned by her long hair and pulling a little on one side.

Regina shifts her legs slightly to allow golden tresses to be pulled out from beneath her as she kneels wide-legged over the blonde.

"Show me how I'm your Queen..."

Smirking as she refers to the younger woman's own heated goading, she hums appreciatively as slim flingers brush obediently at her inner thighs, before the Sheriff pulls at her gently, letting her know she should lower herself down further.

"Oh..."

Dark eyes flutter closed as the blonde offers a tentative swipe of her tongue, the Queen's heart hammering in her chest as she falls forward to drag her fingers down pale thighs; Emma's knees bent and held primly together.

"Open your legs..."

Regina hisses, palms coming to rest on sharp hipbones.

Her request is denied due to the blonde not catching her low murmur, but the reasoning behind the younger woman's insolence is of little interest to the Queen.

" _Ah!_ "

The Sheriff cries out in surprise as sharp nails drag with cruel roughness down the taut muscle of her stomach, catching in the thin web of her navel momentarily.

The brunette is unsurprised to find herself accosted with a small scar above that natural dip.

"Open your legs."

Louder this time, and the younger woman complies slowly; parting her thighs with a curious tremble as she continues tasting the darker woman's growing excitement.

Dark eyes drink in intimate pink as the Mayor remains leant forward; looking, but not yet rewarding the Sheriff with her touch.

The blonde increases her endeavours- leaving the Queen in no doubt that she has _indeed_ done this before- and Regina lets out a low moan, trailing her fingers featherlight up and down the pale expanse of the younger woman's stomach where angry red lines remain as a reminder of her previous punishment.

Cupping the Sheriff's sex delicately, she proceeds to simply move her fingers lazily; teasing but not quite reaching down to slip into the blonde's wetness as slim hips begin to move with tentative encouragement.

She shudders as Emma flicks the sharp point of her tongue purposefully over her clit.

The younger woman mewls against hot flesh as Regina enters her with her index finger.

The brunette smirks; enthralled by the slightly weatherbeaten perfection of the Sheriff's form as the latter continues to move beneath her while serving her so sweetly.

She lowers herself fully.

_Do your worst._

It takes longer in reality than it had in her dream for the younger woman to finally commit her unforgivable error.

The only initial sign that Emma might be concerned or uncomfortable at all with her suddenly restricted oxygen supply is a slight tension that ripples through her body and causes her thighs to draw shut ever so slightly. A firm push and purposeful application of weight onto the blonde has the Sheriff swiftly rectifying her movements and spreading her legs wide once more; never ceasing her ministrations, but finally allowing her teeth the graze fragile flesh accidentally as she moves.

Growling dangerously, the Queen brings the flat of her hand down hard between the younger woman's parted legs, causing the latter to cry out and jerk in surprise.

Sharp teeth scrape delicate folds a little more roughly as slim thighs slam shut instinctively.

Snarling, Regina digs her nails into the pale skin of the blonde's stomach; dragging them angrily up delicately pronounced ribs with brutal malice.

What had been a choked cry becomes little less than a wounded scream against her most sensitive flesh, and she bucks her hips with momentary blindness to anything but her own desire; falling forward and pulling the Sheriff's legs firmly apart to taste the younger woman's evident arousal hungrily.

Slim thighs beneath her palms begin to tremble tellingly as she feels the warm fingers of her own orgasm begin to take her graciously.

"Oh god, Emma!"

She moans as she comes completely undone; the Sheriff's own cry of pleasure muted, but the twitching of the sinewy muscles of her legs all too telling.

Coming down from her high, Regina moves herself carefully off of the blonde; the lust that had clouded her judgement only moments ago abating enough to allow her to assess their current position and take pity on the younger woman's restricted breathing. She strives to control her own harsh panting as her cheeks glow a pleasant pink and her eyes sparkle. Looking down at the Sheriff, she smirks as Emma too appears sufficiently exhausted as a result of their enthusiastic activities.

Her smile falters when she notes a small trickle of scarlet rolling lazily down the dip between delicate ribs towards the younger woman's navel.

Dark eyes flash with an untold emotion as the Queen takes in the crude red lines that litter the blonde's pale flesh; beading with a small spot of blood here and there.

"Holy shit..."

A wry chuckle, and the Sheriff glances up at her bedmate with amused disbelief, frowning when the expression she receives in return is anything but humorous.

"...What?"

"Emma..."

"What is it? Did I... Did I do something?"

A deep blush flushes already rosy cheeks as the blonde bites her lip with obscene awkwardness, and the brunette shakes her head slowly, moving so that she once more straddles slim hips.

"... You're bleeding..."

Her tone isn't quite apologetic, but her expression says what her words don't, and Emma looks down at herself with casual intrigue.

"Jeez, you really went to town, huh?"

She jokes, already feeling slightly awkward as her mind struggles to comprehend what in the hell just happened.

Regina seems not to share her amusement.

Emma frowns.

"It's... It's ok... Seriously...Don't worry about it..."

A small shrug, and a hopeful smile as the younger woman silently urges the Queen to let the matter drop. She is aware of a sharp sting across the pale flesh of her stomach, but she has felt worse pain, and is more intrigued then distraught by the darker woman's sudden rough ministrations. The fact that Regina has managed to procure a few errant drops of blood doesn't really phase her; the small grazes superficial, and well worth the cause.

"Regina?"

"Miss Swan... I need to ask you something..."


	39. Chapter 39

_"Miss Swan... I need to ask you something..."_

The brunette's tone is disconcertingly somber given their recent activities, and Emma nibbles at her bottom lip, inwardly wishing the darker woman would get off of her. It's not that the view Regina offers as she remains perched with her legs splayed isn't highly pleasing to the eye, but the blonde feels suddenly vulnerable lying pinned beneath her; forced to maintain at least a minimal amount of eye contact.

"Hmm?"

She purrs, trying to keep both her tone and her expression light. Her head thrums miserably, and she is unsure whether the culprit is the wine or her recent deprivation of oxygen.

_Or the fact that a beautiful woman, who was only seconds ago moaning your name, is now looking down at you as though you've grieviously misbehaved._

_...Well..._

Sighing as glittering coals negate to soften and release her from their ever enticing prison, Emma elaborates; desisting with her awkward flickering glances in favor of meeting Regina's gaze solemnly.

"What is it?"

She frowns when the Queen's own attention wavers back down to the damning expanse of abused flesh at her stomach and clears her throat; deciding her second wish would be for some form of shirt.

"Regina?"

"I... Why would you let me _do_ that to you?"

Deciphering what is almost certainly an undertone of anger to the brunette's words, Emma scowls; immediately feeling irritable herself.

"I thought the whole _point_ was that you were going to 'do your worst'... It was... I mean, shit, it was _sex_! What do you want me to _say_? We were in the moment! What, and now I need to give you a fucking-"

"-You don't have to _give_ me anything... I merely... It was not my intention to actually _hurt_ you."

Regina mutters, more to herself than to the Sheriff; her expression peculiar as she struggles through the conflict of her horror proceeding her dream, and the ease with which she had fallen into her role when called upon. She is a little unsure if her words are entirely truthful, but what bothers her most about the situation is that she should _care_.

"... I told you to forget about it..."

Emma grumbles as she lowers her eyes to the much less judgmental- and that's not the _only_ positive factor- view of the darker woman's chest.

Shivering slightly- though not from the cold- as the Queen trails a finger gently through the narrow track of quick drying blood that divides her ribs with curious symmetry, the younger woman sighs; unable to get her head around what the fuck just happened between the two of them, and disconcerted to find she harbors none of the familiar regret she has grown accustomed to following the scratching of that ever bothersome itch.

_Careful, Swan._

Advice that falls- as always- on deaf ears.

"I let you do it because... Shit, I don't know... I just _did,_ okay?...But that's not _actually_ what you were going to ask me, though, is it?"

"... What makes you so sure?"

There is no challenge to the Queen's words; simply a neutral curiosity at the fact the blonde proves yet again that she is not quite so lacking in a grasp of the emotions of others as she can sometimes portray.

"Well, for one thing, while you may not have meant to do... _That_... You've wanted to have your way with me- in terms of punishment- for a hell of a long time now. You enjoyed it... You know nothing about my intimate tastes and dislikes- nor do I suffer any delusion you have any _interest_ in such things- and so you have no way of knowing if you should be apologizing or demanding my gratitude... For another... That question was about sex; about pleasure... Your tone isn't."

"... You're actually a rather clever girl when you want to be, aren't you, Miss Swan?"

"Emma."

"...Emma."

"So... What _did_ you want to ask me?"

Pale fingers trail smooth thighs absentmindedly as the Sheriff raises an eyebrow in question, and the brunette is struck yet again by the absurdity of their situation.

_How am I supposed to deal with this? How in the hell am I supposed to tell you what you need to know?_

Do _you need to know?_

_Would it be better to allow you to find out when the time comes?_

_I have never been a woman to take kindly to advice from others, but I would wish for nothing more at present._

_What am I supposed to_ do _, Emma?_

Clearing her throat, she looks down into deep pools of emerald and tries to keep her voice from wavering.

"Do you trust-"

"-Oh, _god_! Not this again! _Regina_! I mean, talk about a fucking awkward time to-"

"-Hush!"

"But-"

"- _Please_. Answer the question."

" _Yes!_... I've told you-"

"-Then I need you remember that when I tell you what I'm about to tell you, and I need you to promise me that you will hear me out without interruption."


	40. Chapter 40

_"Do you trust-"_

_"-Oh, god! Not this again! Regina! I mean, talk about a fucking awkward time to-"_

_"-Hush!"_

_"But-"_

_"-Please. Answer the question."_

_"Yes!... I've told you-"_

_"-Then I need you remember that when I tell you what I'm about to tell you, and I need you to promise me that you will hear me out without interruption..."_

Regarding the darker woman with a frown, the blonde nods slowly; her fingers stilling as they brush over satin flesh.

"...Okay..."

* * *

"Out!"

Ursula barks at the young girl that remains lying crumpled on the floor; the mermaid's fingers glistening with the slick wetness of Sea Witch's lust. The wretch does as she's told; staggering from the room with her head bowed and heart racing as she flits between the two curious, sallow creatures that glide into her mistress's room.

The Nereids titter as she passes.

"Please, help yourselves to a seat."

The Sea Queen simpers; conjuring up a third ghastly violet chair so that she may join the beings that comply to her bidding.

"Now, tell me: what rests so heavily on your minds that it could not wait for the morrow? You spoke of Queen Regina and her ill-behaved little chattel; what, pray tell, has sparked such urgent interest?"

"The girl... Who does she say she is?"

"The blonde? She refers to herself as Emma. The Queen from the Land however refers to the wretch as her Prize. There is bad blood between their families, despite being of kin by marriage. Regina has taken up ownership of the girl to taunt Snow White; the whelp's mother."

"... It has been said in our lore that the Fair Queen's bitch would bring about the Evil Queen's downfall..."

"Ah, you speak of the curse laid upon the Land by Regina. I had heard word that her cruel spell had been recently broken, indeed, but I have given the matter little thought. She is Cora's daughter, after all... Hot tempered and susceptible to the delusions of grandeur that those from Above Water seem to fall victim to so easily.

Alas, what 'was', is not what matters... It is 'now' to which we must cast our attention, and 'now' the Dark One's so called Saviour finds herself to be the rightful Queen's plaything... A pretty thing, I must say- oh, fret not; introductions will be made accordingly- but she won't last. She has yet to be broken, you see, and I do fear that Regina may not be up to the task of doing so, though I beseech that you forgive me for such adverse opinions unto royalty... The girl's spirit is stronger than her body. She will burn herself out with regrettable speed as those with the mad fancies of dignity are want to do before discovering that they are worthless... But such dull consequences are of no importance to any here..."

Ursula finishes in a silky tone; inspecting her talon-like nails as her breasts and thighs remain on sordid display.

Her guests seem to pay her queer appearance little mind; raven-black hair tumbling over their curious features like oil-spills to reveal only the perfect curve of lips that speak of nothing but the darkest forms of debauchery. Seeming to mull over the Sea Witch's words as to the current affairs of the fractured royal family, they remain silent for an extortionately long period of time, before the elder of the two speaks once more; its voice jarringly melodic.

Haunting.

"A delectable ensemble of flesh and bone no doubt, much like the young woman who _owns_ such entertainment... It is not Queen Regina's curse about which we sought council, however. What the humans deem fit to do is a burden we calmly disdain unto their own shoulders... For a race that produces such fine forms of amusement, they are despicably blind... Blind... But dangerous.

It is fear of a much older, darker myth for which we seek you out.

...Duo corda, unus amor..."

"Two souls become one... I have heard word of the tale, however-"

"- Not a tale, Your Majesty, but a prophecy... A prophecy of _hearts_ , not souls... For where the soul may be moral and strong, it is the heart that is true... So the prophecy tells it."

"I see... And what does ancient lore have to do with the Queen and her spoils?"

"The two that the ancient text speaks of are Land Dwellers, descending down beneath the tide to play a game of mirrors and deception..."

"I am familiar with the general premise... Just as _you_ must be familiar with legends of _my_ reign. Regina, Snow White and the whelp are not the first of their kind to find themselves wandering my realm, nor will they be the last... I see little reason to attribute _legend_ unto the young women that play guest at present. They have not the wit, nor the _cunning_ to play a game of smoke and mirrors, and for the Dark Queen to attempt to play me for a fool would be detrimental to her meagre cause... What form of deception do you suppose a desperate soul would propose? Hmm? All that she treasures remains in her homeland... She wouldn't be so stupid as to jeopardise all that she longs to go back to."

"...But you have threatened the blonde, have you not?"

"Threatened? No, my dears. I have merely _bargained_ for her... For her _company_... And what does it matter?"

"To the perceptive onlooker, one would have to suggest the so-called Dark Queen might not support such a deal."

"She is possessive of the girl, most definitely, but she has little else to bargain with... And such possessive behaviour only begs the question of _why_..."

Ursula smirks, licking her lips as she regards her guests beneath hooded lids.

"There is a distinct difference between possession and protection... If the bitch is who you say she is- who _they_ say she is- feelings shouldn't run so deep."

"You believe you witnessed the latter?"

"... We hope not."

Sighing, the Sea Witch performs a small flick of her wrist; conjuring a couple of manservants as if from nowhere who bring a bottle of uncorked wine and three silver goblets. Filling her own to the brim, she carries on in a bored tone; becoming lethargic as the night draws on, and tiring of the current topic of conversation. She is only vaguely familiar with the legend of which the Nereids speak, but she is _also_ familiar with the reputation that cloaks her eery visitors themselves. They are deities, and as such, they are notorious for such cryptic beliefs and finding significance in anything and everything; something for which she herself has little time nor patience.

"I believe Regina simply suffers the nerves of a novice; the girl is stubborn and headstrong, and the Dark Queen is an inexperienced mistress. I do not believe she seeks to protect her prize from harm, but rather from those beseeching her to share."

"If that were true, and the disgraced princess serves her purpose solely as a device for the Queen's pleasure, then why did the latter deem it necessary to attend to her inferior the way she showed no callous in doing tonight?"

"Tonight? Why! Tonight I had requested young Emma's company also! I did not except the Dark Queen to show her wrath so openly on the dance floor-"

"- You do not find her actions perplexing?"

"Not at all... I understand your curiosity on the matter, but I must ask you to think on how the legend _ends_... If the Queen and her wretch really _were_ the two it speaks of... Well... I am rusty on the specifics, but I remember enough of the prophecy to know that both my people and yours would be in grave peril; the entwining and healing of the darkest heart- the Cor Mors- by its opposite- by light- not the promise of a happy ending that it may seem. Not for us. Not from those destined souls from the land."

"It speaks of the undoing of our Kingdoms... Of the ancient way of the sea. Of-"

"-Of things that bear no thinking about, as the two women to whom you refer are of no significance. They are simply a means of entertainment-"

"- The legend speaks of a Queen fallen from her throne. It pays reference to her beauty, the richness of her hair, the melody of her words. It speaks of one dark and one fair. One disgraced and one sanctified. Of good being the product- the sapling- produced- cultivated by evil..."

"A mere coincidence... That Regina should be dark-headed and the whelp be blonde. That the Queen should have lost her throne... Simple facets to a lengthy and ultimately dull story. Do not revere them with an awe- with a fear- of which they are undeserving... They are pawns, and nothing more. We will toy with one while we play with the other... That is all. The Queen is a fool, and the girl is simply a vessel for pleasure of which we will demand our fill... Retire now, and rest easy in the knowledge that all is well.

I have everything under control."

* * *

"Get out..."

A dangerous hiss from bloodied lips as the brunette looks up from the damning scarlet that mars the whorls of her fingertips to find hard green glittering with hatred.

"Now..."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hopefully this reads ok and is not too schizophrenic. It might be made a little more meaningful when delved into more by the upcoming chapters, but for now... Some angst and getting things out into the open for these two. I found this chapter ridiculously hard/ irritating to write and I hope I have said all that needs to be said while keeping it in character, as, seriously, never has a chapter made me want to give up more! -_- But the end is nigh, and it needed to be covered :) I really, really hope you enjoy it more when reading it, as it is an integral part to the story. Thanks for reading, and please comment :)

_"Get out..."_

_A dangerous hiss from bloodied lips as the brunette looks up from the damning scarlet that mars the whorls of her fingertips to find hard green glittering with hatred._

_"Now..."_

Her eyes flicker angrily as she regards the Sheriff; the latter taking a step back, trembling with rage. She is furious that the blonde should have shown the gall to strike her, but, even as she feels fresh blood salting her tongue from the shallow graze caused by the younger woman's fist and her own bottom teeth, she is wary that her command might be obeyed.

She wants Emma gone.

She wants her to stay.

She wants to shake the infuriating woman violently and scream at her until she understands.

Until she comprehends that she is not the _only_ victim in all of this.

_It's just bad timing._

True.

And it is for _this_ reason she strives to believe that the blonde hit her.

...She understands.

She understands that for her to attempt to explain to the Sheriff what Ursula has asked of her while sat straddling the younger woman following their _own_ recent and unexpected carnal activities was a mistake. She can see how it might look, especially with the way their roles had fallen into place.

Of course she can see that _now_.

But it hadn't crossed her mind upon coming to the hateful decision that the blonde needed to know what was coming. It had been a care for her, and a closeness that had led the Queen to share her misery, and this fact only makes it all the more bitter as she thinks on it now.

Because she honestly hadn't considered Emma taking it any other way.

 _"... You're letting her f-_ fuck _me?"_

_"... I... N-no! Fuck? No, I... Well, yes... But only because there's no other way! I-"_

_"-Only because there's 'no other_ way _'?!"_

_"Emma, she's stated her terms- her desires- and you... Well, you were it... I don't... If there was another way, do you really think-"_

_"- You're letting her_ fuck _me?!"_

 _"I'm not_ letting _her do anything... Not really. I mean... You're not_ really _my... My 'prize'... It's not the way she thinks it is!... I can't_ force _you to-"_

_"-Yes. You can..."_

_"I... Well yes,_ technically _I can... But I'm not! Not really... You... This is for_ Henry. _It's not my_ choice _, dear!"_

 _"Easy for_ you _to say given your position."_

_"... That's not fair... I never-"_

_"- You_ always! _... You've known about this goddamned deal all_ along _-"_

_"-No! I found out the night I went down to seek Ursula's council... I-"_

_"-You knew about it_ tonight _... When we were down there at the gala!... You knew! You knew when we came back up here! When you led me on for a fool and fucking_ undressed _me-"_

 _"-You_ asked _me to-"_

 _"-You knew when you_ fucked _me!"_

_"... Emma-"_

_"-So, what? What, you were just getting yours in before Ursula got a go?"_

_"I...H-how dare you!?"_

_"_ Me _?! You_ fucked _me! You fucked me when you knew wh-what was-"_

_"-That was different!"_

_"How?! How the_ hell _is that different!?"_

 _"Because I... We_ both _wanted to do that!... And you...You were_ asking _for it!"_

And then came that white hot pain in her mouth as the Sheriff- lying deathly still and tense beneath her up until this point- had uppercut her viciously before bucking her off and scrambling from the bed in a flash of teeth and fury.

Watching now as the younger woman backs away towards the door following her barked order that she should take her leave, Regina growls warily.

"Emma-"

"-I thought you'd changed!"

"I-"

"-I _trusted_ you!... I fucking _liked_ you! And now... I... You should _never_ have come after us! If you hadn't, we wouldn't _be_ here! This wouldn't be happening!"

_And you would be dead by my mother's hand, dear._

"No, but-"

"-But nothing! You... You used me!"

Such anger.

And it really isn't fair...

It's not as though this is _her_ choice, and it's not as though her knowledge on the matter has rested easy on her mind... And... She _could_ tell the blonde this, but she is fully aware that right now Emma doesn't want to hear it.

That... And she is proud.

The Sheriff striking her has her thinking back to the time in the graveyard when the blonde last left her bleeding, and ignites that old flame of dislike as though the emotion is purely instinctual.

_Maybe I was wrong about you... About all of this..._

But she knows that isn't right. Dark eyes dropping to the angry red lines that mar alabaster flesh and the light spattering of bruises- yellowed now with healing- that cover the younger woman's frame, she sighs; gathering herself.

"... I wouldn't use you, Emma. I _need_ -"

"-You 'need' me. You 'need' me for Henry to take you back. So you keep saying."

"I do..."

"It doesn't matter what _state_ I'm in though, does it?! Just so long as you can tell him you tried? That you did the right thing?"

"I _did_ do the right thing! And of course it matters!"

"Oh sure, because Henry-"

"- _Not just to Henry!_ To _me_! Are you honestly so stubborn that you're going to disregard _everything_ I've done for you?! I would say it's pretty damn _clear_ that your well-being matters to myself, and not just our- my- son! I know this is... Horrible... I do! But it's not _me_ you should be angry with! I- _Emma!_ "

Regina yells, stalking swiftly over to the door as the blonde makes as if to leave. Realising the Sheriff shows no sign of responding to her name, the Queen acts on instinct; freezing the younger woman in her tracks to garner an animalistic growl.

"Stop it!"

Moving round so that she stands face to face with the paler woman, the brunette offers her an intense stare; taking in bloodshot eyes and sharp, white teeth clamped over a pale bottom lip as though trying to keep in a scream.

"...Please..."

"... Let me go."

"Not if you're going to storm off."

"You told me to get out of here so I'm doing it!"

"...Obeying my wishes? It doesn't suit you, dear... You hit me; I was angry."

"You-"

"-I didn't mean for it to look the way it did telling you this after what just happened between us... I'm sorry...But that is _all_ I'm prepared to apologize for. I would _never_ wish this situation onto anyone; as you've said yourself- and perhaps now regret- I am not quite as evil as my title would suggest. So, no, I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but I _especially_ wouldn't wish it on you, Miss Swan... I have been  
}as surprised by your behavior as you have been by mine, perhaps even more so. I didn't come here in the hopes of making friends, in fact, the thought would have seemed entirely _undesirable_ should I have thought upon it back in Storybrooke... But it seems you are not quite so hateful as I might have believed... Obnoxious and irritating? Most definitely... But... I _do_ care for you. If I had a solution, I would give it... But I don't."

"I... I can't believe this is happening..."

And again, the darker woman is struck with the wish to tell the Sheriff to desist with her low, pitiful anguish and wide eyes; the version of Emma with which she has been presented here and in the Enchanted Forest so different from the gutsy young woman she had forever been at odds with back home. She is not one to deal well with such weakness as it is- never mind the added disconcertion that it comes from the Sheriff- but she recalls with hateful clarity the terror which had engulfed her when wearing the blonde's guise and accosted by the loathsome Sea Witch, just as she remembers the miserable ache of slender limbs and the pitiful hunger for which she hadn't been prepared.

"... Me neither."

Wrapping her arms around the younger woman- mindless of their mutual nudity- she sighs as she feels the latter tremble slightly in her embrace, and coaxes her to rest her jaw in the crook of her shoulder; slim fingers finding long tangles and playing through them with a maternal gentleness that has her closing her eyes lest she salt her cheeks with a sudden homesickness for Henry.

"... I told her no at first. I said she would have to find something else she desired as she couldn't have you... She responded that I had nothing else to bargain with. Her interest is in you, not Snow or I, and there is nothing my power can gift her that she is unable to obtain herself. She wants you because I have you- she _believes_ I have you- and because you're... Well... If you recall I complimented you on your fitting the role of the dirty little damsel marvellously well... I... You're a pretty girl... So she wants you. If we refuse her, it's not _just_ a case of finding another way back to Storybrooke, Emma; it's surviving in a realm run by a cruel mistress in which we have outstayed our welcome... Myself, I am unsure as to what fate would befall me; I am her dear friend's daughter after all... Snow though... She has no use for her. Do you understand me?"

A faint dig at her collarbone as the Sheriff offers a small nod.

"Good, it is important that you do. I would hazard a guess also, that your lack of compliance would not hinder Ursula in her wishes, dear... And once granted... You would hold no value to her. No interest... I may have pondered your undoing and how to go about it a _great_ many nights back home, Miss Swan, but I will _not_ let you go the way of that idiotic little wretch.

You are not Delphine.

And you know, dear...

You say I'm 'letting' her hurt you, and that I am 'forcing' you to comply... I would argue that this is not the case, but I fear I might be lying... I made a promise to your mother that I would watch over you, and- while my word to Snow is of no great significance to my conscience- when it was made in regards to keeping you from such a fate, I feel I am unable to break that promise for my own reasons.

You asked me back in the Enchanted Forest why I was being so nice to you, if you remember? I... I wasn't sure at the time. Now, though... I've told a rather magnitudeous lie in order to protect you. I've trusted you with use of my guise in an attempt to console you. I've risked a great deal, Emma, and I've found it to be a cruel fate to possess the knowledge of Ursula's wishes. It hurt me to be privy to such despicable thoughts... I... Sheriff, I killed my own mother so as to keep you alive, and yes, that was for Henry, but it was _also_ for you. It was for the woman that climbed out of that elevator shaft after slaying a dragon in an attempt to keep my son from dying...

So yes, maybe I am forcing you to do this- you are right; I have the capabilities, but I would pray it doesn't come to that- but I also did all of those _other_ things for you... Please don't forget that... Don't let me lose the one person that refused to think of me as the Evil Queen... I don't deserve that..."

"...I refused to believe you were a 'Queen' altogether..."

The blonde mutters; her jaw weighing heavy on the delicate bow of the brunette's clavicle; eyes closed and entirely drained.

"Mmmhh, it wasn't exactly your contrary naivety back home to which I was referring, Sheriff..."

"I know."

"... Good."

A small mercy on the brunette's cramping shoulder as the younger woman bows her head so as to seek refuge in the shadows of the darker woman's soft flesh while the latter continues to toy with knotted tresses.

"... I'm sorry I accused you of... You know... And I'm sorry if I maybe haven't shown you the gratitude I should have done while here... I'm just... I was... I don't know..."

"Scared."

"... Me?... Never."

The Sheriff mumbles, causing Regina to chuckle softly before her eyes widen as the blonde finally moves her own arms to encircle her waist.

"Is that so?"

"... I'll never tell."

"Of course not, dear..."

Frowning as the soft limbs that press against her disentangle themselves slowly, the brunette allows the younger woman to take a step back; studying her pensively. She finds she is deeply thankful for the Sheriff's embrace- however short lived- as it allows her to keep her sanity when accosted with the alarming look of passive disconnection that alights fine features now they break apart.

A discipline made slightly harder when, despite her words, Emma takes a step back towards the door.

"...Where are you going?"

"Downstairs."

"But I... We... I thought I-"

"-You nothing. You did nothing. I just... I need to think."

"...You can think here."

Regina offers; a voice in the back of her mind drawing vague attention to the fact that she currently stands bargaining with Emma Swan to remain a while longer in her company.

 _What would Henry make of_ that _!?_

"I could... But I don't want to snap at you any more than I have done... I just need to be alone right now."

"...Okay... I understand."

The brunette sighs; unsure whether she believes her own words.

Sniffing, and pulling herself briskly back together- slowly becoming aware of the fact she remains stood naked and uncharacteristically unsure of herself- she takes a bold step towards the Sheriff and acts with new assertion; taking the younger woman's jaw gently between her fingers in a way acutely different to that in which she had done when playing with her, and offering her a firm kiss on the cheek.

"Go and think, dear, but come back when you're ready... It's cold down there."

"... I will."

"And, Emma... Please don't think this to be the wrong time for me to say so, but, what happened tonight, and the way things have been between you and I... That wasn't part of any act."

"... I know that... I'm glad."

"How so?"

"I'd feel like an idiot if it were just me."


	42. Chapter 42

When the brunette awakes the room is cold, but she is doubtful that it is the chill in the air which has roused her. Her head thrums with the dull echo of the wine consumed the night before, and her lip feels miserably sore.

_Oh god..._

Remembering the reason why she should feel so peculiar- as well as why she should be lying atop the plush throws in a most curious position, rather than engulfed beneath them- she turns onto her side to survey the vast expanse of mattress beside her.

Empty.

And she supposes she had known it would be; inexplicably in tune to the blonde's presence, and inwardly knowing herself to be alone upon waking.

"Sheriff?"

A low call on the off chance that the younger woman might be in the bathroom, but she holds little hope and is predictably rewarded with silence.

She is surprised that she had managed to fall asleep following the weary conversation what must only have been hours ago, but then she supposes there are few things in life as exhausting as a confession.

She should know.

It had not been her first.

She recalls lying on her back on the bed and forbidding herself from thinking upon the hateful matter; simply surveying the ceiling and waiting for Emma to tire of mulling over her black thoughts downstairs to return to bed. Personally, she doesn't think the hopeless atmosphere of the cavern below the kitchens will do the blonde's psyche any good in her current state, but- whilst she and the Sheriff may have formed this most peculiar bond- she wouldn't want to profess to understand the innermost workings of the younger woman's mind.

If she were to take a guess, she would say the blonde's choice of surroundings might be an act of acceptance; of matching her means with her mood.

But to take a guess at anything when it comes to Emma Swan has often served her nothing but strife in the past.

_"...You can think here."_

_"I could... But I don't want to snap at you any more than I have done... I just need to be alone right now."_

"As you wish, dear."

She rolls onto her back and stretches in a curiously feline manner. She is anxious to bring the younger woman back up into the safety of her bedroom, but she supposes all she can do is wait for Emma to wish to join her. That said, Ursula's ultimatum is tomorrow, not today, and she imagines she will surely go crazy if she spends the intermittent time lying in bed with only her thoughts for company, should the Sheriff decide not to show herself at all.

"Well, if needs must..."

She mutters, making her way into the bathroom and moving to stand beneath the thundering water of the shower. The torrent's heat illicits a dull ache in the lean muscles of her lower back and thighs, and finds herself thinking on the heated activities of the night before with something akin to wonder. She still can't entirely believe that her relationship with the Sheriff has taken such a carnal turn, but the memory serves to excite her, despite everything else that had come to follow.

_"... Please don't think this to be the wrong time for me to say so, but, what happened tonight, and the way things have been between you and I... That wasn't part of an act."_

_"... I know that... I'm glad."_

_"How so?"_

_"I'd feel like an idiot if it were just me."_

"Bad timing... Again."

She murmurs, closing her eyes as the water cascades in freshets down her velvet-perfect flesh.

True; as her love-life has been fairly non-existent for the longest time. She is more than aware- and deeply proud- of her aesthetic and sexual appeal, but in reality, she has been celibate for a long time; Graham having offered her her only source of relief since she had cursed the inhabitants of Snow's realm.

The irony that it had been he with whom the blonde had taken up a liking also is not lost on her, but she remains certain that the relationship between the former Sheriff and his irksome young Deputy had never progressed to anything beyond thoughts of an inappropriate nature on both party's behest.

 _Which would provide a good explanation as to the_ current _Sheriff's acute... Sensitivity... last night..._

_After all, for myself it's been a while... For Emma, well..._

_Oh, but such innocent notions would suggest a belief that Miss Swan has not taken such matters into her own hands now and again so to speak..._

"... How inappropriate..."

She admonishes herself, blushing lightly. She is curiously struck by the idea that the woman in question would find her current thoughts and sudden coy embarrassment to be altogether rather amusing- certain she would be on the receiving end of an exemplary display of sarcastic teasing and adolescent crass humor- and shakes her head.

"I will admit that I like you, dear, but I honestly can't for the life of me fathom _why_..."

Smirking, despite the dark shadow that looms ominously over their precarious situation, she steps from the shower and dries herself off slowly and methodically. Donning her day-clothes and running her fingers through rich, damp locks, she makes her way back into the bedroom; telling herself she hadn't really expected Emma to be sat wrapped up in the covers upon her return.

"One wouldn't have suspected you had quite so many thoughts, Miss Swan."

There is a spiteful lilt to her words, but her meaning is sincere. She does not deem it to be a positive thing that the Sheriff should be mulling over her impending fate with such macabre focus.

Dismissing the topic from her own weary mind, she pulls herself together and takes her leave with sudden resolute purpose; mindful to keep the door visibly unlocked should the younger woman return.

* * *

"Why are you looking at me in such a way?"

The brunette snaps as green eyes rove over her in a most peculiar manner.

"It's actually you..."

"As opposed to _who_ , dear?"

She inquires irritably, before it dawns on her that her last meeting with the pale woman peeking out from behind crude stalactites hadn't _exactly_ been with herself.

_Emma told you?_

No. She doesn't think so; such a move too risky for even the blonde to deem it a worthwhile risk.

 _You were able to tell? Able to see Emma through all this? Curious... Perhaps blood_ does _count for something._

It is a a cruel thought- suggesting that Snow might be lacking in understanding of her daughter due to being absent for the vast majority of her life- but the blame falls predominantly on herself, and she can't allow that. What is more likely- and a train of thought she is much more at ease to entertain- is that Emma's innately awkward mannerisms had given the younger woman away.

She suppresses a smirk at the thought.

"What are you doing here?"

The schoolteacher asks, her shoulders drooping slightly as she confirms her inclination that it is indeed the Dark Queen that stands before her.

"I had some time to kill..."

"To kill before what? Where's Emma?... Have you sorted things out with Ursula?"

This last part is but a mere whisper, and Snow decides it doesn't bode well when- rather than receiving a curt warning for her curiosity- Regina simply regards her stoically before letting out a low sigh.

"In a manner of speaking..."

"Then... Why?"

"... I need your advice."


	43. Chapter 43

_"... I need your advice."_

The silence that follows would be comical if not for the situation. As it is, Snow gathers herself before letting out a small, confused chuckle.

"I'm sorry... _What?_ "

"You heard me... Don't make me repeat it."

The brunette growls; a swift flash of perfect teeth as her eyes glitter dangerously and challenge the Fair Queen to heed her warning.

"... I... What advice could _I_ possibly give you? That you would _actually_ take any notice of?"

The schoolteacher inquires; her lips drawn back into a nervous smile, but it is a misleading expression and one that the darker woman knows not to take to heart.

_After all, Emma does the same thing; a smile is often anything but in this family it seems..._

Reprimanding her chaotic thoughts irritably to hush now, she takes a few steps closer towards the bars that separate them, but the act is not to throw off any unwanted listeners, but rather one of habit.

If Ursula means to spy on them, she will do so.

Best she just keep her words vague where possible.

... For Snow's sake also.

"It's about Emma."

"... I had a feeling that might be it... Look, if she's irritating you, then you've come to the wrong person. I take my daughter's side, and to be honest-"

"-She's not irritating me."

"... Oh?"

A small frown, but then the brunette supposes she can understand how- given their history- such a statement might cause more concern than comfort.

"She's... She's not irritating me. Not any more than is to be expected with that insipid tongue of hers' anyway."

"She has a mouth to rival your own, Regina..."

_Oh, my dear, if only you knew the half of it..._

"Hardly. There exists a difference between witticisms and the idiosyncratically crass insinuations of a muddled mind."

"... I wouldn't call you particularly crass..."

"... Well, I wouldn't call you particularly witty; your latest attempt being a case in point."

Regina muses; supposing she has to deal with the fact that there will be _some_ similarities between mother and daughter.

She has enjoyed toying with both...

"... Well, if she's _not_ irritating you, then what is it you need my advice about concerning Emma?"

And just like that the facade crumbles; the paler woman's gentle face suddenly hard and drawn as she silently steers the conversation towards where she needs it to go.

"Ursula has made her demands in return for helping us clear to me."

"... And they are?"

"She has asked for... Something... From your daughter."

"What? What has she asked for?"

The fear in the raven-headed woman's tone is evident now, and her knuckles blanch as she grips the bars that separate her from the Dark Queen.

"... I can't tell you that."

"What?! _Why!?_ You-"

"- I promised Emma I wouldn't..."

Regina lies; though she would wager that she could easily be forgiven, as she imagines- if asked- the Sheriff might have indeed extracted such a vow.

"You... Why would she forbid you to tell me?... Why would she-"

"- Because to do so would be risky and she doesn't want to endanger you or herself in any way."

The brunette continues; the words falling from her tongue easily despite having discussed no such thing with the blonde.

"... I... Then... What do you-"

"- What do I seek your council for?"

"Yes?"

"This... This _thing_ Emma has agreed to... To _give_... To the Sea Queen... Is not something pleasant-"

"- _What?!_ But-"

"-Hush! What were you expecting? You know where we are and to whom we have asked for this favour! Let me speak!"

"... Go on."

"It is not something Miss Swan is ... Entirely comfortable with."

"... Will it hurt her?"

"... It might."

"Regina... You gave me your _word_ -"

"-And I have kept it. Do not fool yourself that there hasn't been a great deal of thought, argument and discussion that has gone into this decision..."

"I... Okay... But for it to be _Emma_... She's my little girl-"

"-She has a good couple of inches on you."

"That's not what I _meant_! I-"

"-I know. Neither is it what _I_ meant! She is a grown woman, Snow, just as you are. She's managed to make decisions for herself for the past twenty-eight years, and she is perfectly capable of doing so now."

"How _dare_ you!? I-"

"-You are doing her no favours beating a dead horse! I didn't come here to discuss the intrinsic chaos that lies within our young Sheriff's cranium... You asked if she could get hurt, and she might... In fact there is a good chance of it... Not only this though... But in submitting to Ursula's wishes of her, she is going against her own... She's... Well, she's scared..."

"... What does she have to _do_ , Regina?"

Snow begs quietly, her brow furrowed and ruby-red lips downturned as she pleads for an answer she knows she won't want to hear.

"... Something she wouldn't do if she had the choice... And before you ask; no, I can't do this for her... What I _can_ do... Well, what I _can_ do is make her... Well... _Unaware_ of precisely what it is that's happening."

"Hypnotise her?"

"Not exactly... I can't render her completely oblivious to her surroundings or Ursula will suspect something to be amiss... No... What I can offer her is more like... A drunken haze... I'm sure the Sheriff is well acquainted with the feeling."

The darker woman sniffs arrogantly, but it does little to convince either one of them that she is as uncaring as her words might suggest.

"Then do it! Of course! If you can make things better for her, then-"

"- I can do it... But, have you _met_ Emma?... Snow, if I were to ask the woman if she wished me to aid her in such a way, do you _really_ think she'd agree? She is your blood, dear; and such a suggestion of weakness would hardly go down _well_ I would imagine."

"Then what-"

"-That is... If I _were_ to suggest it to her... She doesn't _have_ to know..."

"... You've come here to ask of me whether I advise you- the Evil Queen; the woman who has sought the destruction of both myself, and my daughter- to use magic on her without her blessing... To curse her..."

"... Charm her..."

"... It all comes at a price..."

"I-"

"-Yes."

"Yes?"

"Do it."

"... You advocate my suggestion?"

"... I don't want her to hurt anymore."

"As you wish."


	44. Chapter 44

Dim light flickers off the pale flesh of the Sea Witch as she glides through the complex cave system beneath the castle.

She has heard tales from up above that it is most unusual for a Queen to feed her lowliest subjects in person, but it is how she has always gone about it during her rule, and a part that she has always enjoyed.

To watch them.

To watch them scrap and bicker and writhe as they fight and push to get to what they need. To watch them brawl and draw blood from one another- not a frequent occurrence, but one she relishes when blessed with the sight- as the pale bodies of her underlings ripple beautifully and become one.

They are hungry.

They are desperate.

Desperate for what little she will allow them.

They claw and appeal to her for what she has to offer; those closest to her throwing themselves down and lavishing her legs and feet with sumptuous attention...

And for _what_?

For chum.

All _that_ , for so little.

They worship her.

_Let that be a lesson to those up on land that imagine they have the answer to an ironclad dictatorship._

She is all-powerful.

This she knows.

Upon entering the caverns, she had done so using her powers; not one to lower herself to carrying her spoilt offerings as though she were some sort of mule. Once rid of her burden, however, she had made her way towards the light glowing softly from the largest of the greater caves; that beneath the kitchen.

It is only then that she spots the blonde.

Raising an eyebrow at her find, she regards the pale woman with unmasked intrigue; Emma sat resting against the damp walls with her brow furrowed as if deep in thought. Her jaw is visibly clenched, and she sits with her long limbs pulled in tightly to her slight frame, as if in an attempt to ward off the frigid chill of the place; sharp chin resting on her knee.

 _And what might you be doing down_ here _, sweetness? Where's your mistress?_

 _Surely she hasn't_ banished _you..._

But the thought gives her cause to smirk. Despite her unsettling conversation with the Nereids, she still finds herself amused at the phenomenal display put on by the Dark Queen and her feisty little piece down at the the gala. She had watched intently as wine had exchanged hands; coating forbidden tongues and easing away those pesky inhibitions.

The girl had been bold.

Almost _equally_ in control of their political dance.

_...Perhaps she grew mistaken of her rightful place when the two of them retired to the bedroom..._

Eyes flashing, Ursula stalks towards the younger woman slowly.

"Have you earned yourself a punishment, precious?"

Cool green flickers up to regard her stoically, and the Sea Witch feels a small knot of excitement coil within her stomach as that ever visible disquiet has curiously let way to hate.

"No."

"... Oh?"

The blonde's low growl hangs between them; absent of any formal address or courtesy towards her superior. Brows climbing ever higher, Ursula seems entirely unfazed by such rudeness; her attention affixing first upon the dark bite mark at the younger woman's jaw, before crawling over pretty, pale flesh in its entirety.

She pauses on delicate, pink lips.

"How peculiar then that you should be sat down here all alone and with nobody here to protect you... I was under the impression that your Queen was rather... _Adverse_... Shall we say, to letting her sweet little _prize_ wander from sight..."

"Should I be concerned about any attack?"

Emma asks placidly, raising her own brow as she looks up at the woman that casts her in shadow.

"Oh, not at my hands, my darling, not at my hands."

"Then I can rest easy."

The blonde counters; her gaze steady and carrying just a hint of fire that has the Sea Queen smiling widely.

"I somehow doubt you are one to ever do so."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, a mere observation, pet, but something tells me you are very much a little girl that sleeps with one eye open... You know, your Mistress never _did_ tell me about why that might be. Your past-"

Ursula's words trail into a grinning silence as Emma proceeds to push herself up so that she stands looking down on the squat monarch.

 _Oh, you really don't like to be referred to as 'little' do you, sugar. I'll bet you're just_ full _of those smart little remarks that seem forever present on that pretty pink tongue of yours as to how size doesn't matter... You seem the type... The type that has the names of a couple of dead heroes memorised to bring blazing into a debate... The type to spit some wearisome analogy about one of your Earth ants being one of the mightiest creatures... About one small wretch being able to make all the difference in the world..._

_Well if that were true, Princess... Why would you continue to wear the stony mask of one who has been repeatedly bested?_

"-I sleep soundly, I assure you."

"If you say so, sweetness."

The Witch drawls, taking in the faint remnants of Regina's carnal punishment from the night before; the majority of the red lines caused by cruel nails having faded to nothing, but those where the brunette had drawn blood remain visible against their stark relief.

"Did you want anything... Your Majesty?"

Emma snipes; fully aware of the way hooded eyes roam over her as though she were a piece of meat.

Thick lips pull back to reveal yellowing teeth.

"Indeed I do, Princess, but I'm in the unfortunate position where I have to wait to get it..."

Her grin widens, as finally there is a flicker of something other than cold haughtiness in pretty green eyes.

"... That's too bad..."

Emma mutters; trying and failing at an air of nonchalance.

"Quite."

The Witch agrees, her attention once more travelling the dips and peaks of the younger woman's physique as she ponders over where she will taste her first. Studying the delicate stack of the blonde's ribs, she licks her bottom lip pensively, before returning her gaze to the blonde's hard stare.

"You've lost weight since you arrived."

"I guess I'm just not really into the local cuisine."

Ice cold, and Ursula chuckles; thinking upon the curious whelp's expression when faced with the offering she'd provided back at dinner.

"A pity... Perhaps Regina has been spoiling you with her delicacies..."

A faint blush, and Emma admonishes herself inwardly at the unwanted heat that creeps across her cheeks.

She keeps her tone steady however, as her words get away from her before she has a chance to think upon the consequences.

_Old habits die hard._

"Perhaps... But I guess when you've been presented with something so fine, other offerings are unlikely to be of interest... Or _wanted_..."

A minute downwards twitch to the corners of her mouth as she becomes belatedly aware of what punishment might follow such a statement, but she pulls herself up to her full height and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the hateful woman that looks up at her with a disconcertingly unreadable expression.

"... Rather bold words, don't you think, Emma?"

"I beg for your pardon, Your Majesty."

But her tone is cold and placid, causing Ursula to smirk gleefully.

"I see Regina has yet to do her job of breaking you..."

"... She is my Queen."

"Oh, I have no doubt, Sweetness... But that's not what I said..."

"She is my Queen, and I am her Prize, as you know... Perhaps the problem is that I can't be broken?"

The blonde hisses this last part as an open challenge, and the Witch throws her head back as she laughs heartily; not missing the uncertain inflection and faint quiver to the blonde's bold claim.

Wiping a tear of mirth from her eye as she finally looks back up to regard the younger woman with pink-cheeked humour, she shakes her head and wags her finger in a way reminiscent of how one might admonish an impish youth.

"Oh, my dearest child... _Everyone_ can be broken..."


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Mixed reviews kind of confused me for a while with this also, but I guess I've tried to take as many of them into consideration as possible here. Thanks for reading, and please review!

"Hey."

Glancing up from the sink where she washes her hands under tepid water, Regina stills for a moment as she finds the blonde regarding her tentatively through the glass of the mirror.

"Hey..."

Looking back down as she dries her hands methodically, the Mayor listens intently to the pad of bare feet becoming steadily softer as the Sheriff pushes herself from the frame of the door and makes her way over to the bed in the other room. Swallowing at the sound of the springs that let her know the younger woman has taken a seat upon plush covers, she gives herself a quick once over in the mirror, before turning heel and entering the bedroom.

"You're back."

"I am."

Emma nods slowly, before surprising the darker woman with a wry smile that speaks of times that seem hatefully long ago.

This, in combination with the way she sits- back straight, with her arms locked at her sides and sinking into the soft covers- paints a very different image to the one the brunette has been growing begrudgingly used to.

She hedges a bet that the blonde's response is twofold.

"Good... I'm glad."

"You are?"

And- despite everything- there's an impish lilt to the younger woman's query, and the Queen rolls her eyes but offers a small smile.

"I am."

She sniffs arrogantly when this response is greeted with a suddenly sunnier grin, and looks down as though inspecting her nails.

Emma sighs.

"I'm sorry I left like that... I just..."

"You don't need to explain, dear, I... Well I'm sure it made sense to you..."

"You're not going to tell me you 'understand'?"

"Why would I? When I know it will simply serve to frustrate you?"

Regina counteracts silkily, but she looks up with just a hint of genuine curiosity.

"... That's never really stopped anyone from saying it before..."

Emma replies, and the darker woman has to bite back a laugh when she observes a mild shyness touch ordinarily hard features.

Taking the Sheriff's surprisingly goodnatured attitude since entering the room as an invitation, she stalks over to the bed and takes a seat.

"Some time alone did you good then?"

"I guess... I mean... I'm still kind of... It's fucked up, you know? But I know it's not your fault... And, I dunno... I was so pissed and scared and shit before, but then when that bitch came and talked to me, that all kind of went away. I'm still pissed, but it's like a _red_ pissed, and I-"

"-You spoke with Ursula?"

"She came down into the kitchen cave."

"... You spoke about her ... Her request?"

"Not in so many words... I simply made it very clear- regardless of what she might demand from me- where my interests lie..."

"... And that would be?"

Regina allows the question to escape her lips as though asking what the blonde might make of the weather; Emma's wording dangerously close to exhibiting a concrete emotion- a real infatuation- rather than any hint of their previous act.

"With you."

The Sheriff offers, squaring her bare shoulders and raising her jaw defiantly as though readying herself for ridicule, but a deep crimson blush paints her cheeks and belies the complexity of her words.

"I see... For how long now?"

"Does it matter?"

"No... I suppose not."

"I just thought... I mean, if you don't feel the same-"

"-I was merely curious as to how long it had been a shared desire, Miss Swan... As I have _already_ told you- before you regress to your usual state of a stammering idiot in these situations- that I care for you a great deal."

"I'm flattered... Though while we're on the topic, _caring_ isn't exactly the same as-"

"- I _also_ \- to use your term of phrase- took great delight in _fucking_ you... But, perhaps that wasn't sign enough of my affections? If this is the case, then I believe I would need lightening to strike you, or-"

But she trails off with a bemused shake of her head as the younger woman beside her- bruised and abused- tries and fails to stifle her husky laughter.

"Well... I'm stoked you had fun, Madame Mayor, but what I meant was more a question of the term 'caring'. You've hated me for a good deal of time, Regina, but it wasn't really a _mutual_ thing... You excelled yourself in pissing me off a lot of the time, but, personally, I've _always_ 'cared' about you... You were a nightmare, don't get me wrong, but it's not like I would have stood by and watched if you'd been attacked by bears or something."

" _Ugh_ , you-"

"-So, I just wanted you to be a little more _specific_..."

Emma finishes with a teasing smirk; leaving the darker woman entirely dumbstruck by the way this situation has turned into such light and harmless flirting.

It isn't until the blonde moves to straddle her lap that she snaps out of it and speaks quietly as her eyes fall to where pale legs drape over her own sun kissed flesh.

"... What happened with Ursula, dear?"

"Do we _have_ to talk about that now?"

the Sheriff growls, as she leans forward to brush her lips against the delicate hollow beneath the brunette's jaw.

"...Emma, you left here in a state and I was worried you might remain distant from me for... Well... In my mind; forever! _Believe_ me when I say I am relieved to have you back here and seemingly in healthier spirits- and trust also that I would use any proffered wish to have you sitting like this be a regular occurrence- but... What _happened_ to you?... And that I _am_ asking because I 'care' for you..."

"I told her I couldn't be broken, Regina..."

The younger woman whispers into the perfect shell of the Mayor's ear while her hands flutter over soft curves maddeningly.

The Queen keeps her own palms rested gently over sharp hips; trying to ward off the potent cloak of arousal that threatens to blind her vision before she can find out what she needs to.

"... I wouldn't have thought she'd like that..."

"She told me _everyone_ can be broken..."

"... That doesn't sound promising..."

"But what can I _do_ about it?"

Emma hisses as she nips ever so lightly at the delicate skin that graces the curve of the darker woman's clavicle. Her voice cracks slightly, and Regina finally mover her hands to the the Sheriff's slender waist; finding the blonde's lips and accepting the erratic, fear-charged lust the younger woman bestows upon her.

_It's a better solution to weakness in your mind, isn't it, dear?_

_Your emotions are fried... Your adrenaline must be through the roof..._

_You're still scared, but conversing with that hateful woman has made you feel not just fear but anger..._

_And now you've got someone that can make that all go away for a brief while._

_Someone who cares._

It is in no way a healthy reaction she imagines, but she is well aware that her own feelings are worryingly similar. She has made her decision after being granted with Snow's blessing, and supposes that taking pleasure in one small act of burning off their communal adrenaline will do no more harm than has already been promised.

"Nothing...You can do nothing about it."

"Then can't we just... Please... Regina, I-"

"-I'm going to take care of you."

She murmurs against lust-salted flesh, as she slips her fingers gently down to find the blonde's heat.


	46. Chapter 46

_"Then can't we just... Please... Regina, I-"_

_"-I'm going to take care of you."_

_She murmurs against lust-salted flesh, as she slips her fingers gently down to find the blonde's heat._

Groaning as the younger woman finds her lips once more and alternates between cherishing them and allowing hot, shuddering breath to whisper across lush scarlet, the brunette teases sensitive flesh gently, giving a wry smirk at the frustrated movements the Sheriff makes with her hips against her hand.

The Savior's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and her lips draw back between her petal caresses to expose clenched teeth, and the Queen needs no further sign than the frantic pulling at her hair- something she would ordinarily vehemently forbid- to know the younger woman dances on a stress-fuelled knife-edge.

Catching a liquid gleam from sooty lashes, she calls a halt to the blonde's imminent chaotic release; withdrawing glistening fingers to find the Sheriff's jaw and gently coaxing her to lean back slightly.

She admires the delicate sheen of the younger woman's lust marring pale flesh.

"Enough..."

Blackened emeralds crack open and regard her with confused irritation, causing the darker woman to laugh softly and taste the intimate residue she's left on cheeks and chin.

"Regina... What the fuck, I-"

"Shush... Have faith, dear. I told you I would take care of you... But not like this..."

"But-"

The Queen presses her index finger firmly against argumentative lips, and pushes the blonde off of her gently; never letting go of the latter's left wrist. Manoeuvring to the side and pulling Emma back down onto the bed to lie prone, she shakes her head with a bemused sigh as the blonde immediately moves to pull her down to straddle her prize.

"Stop... Emma... I want to do this _my_ way..."

"We did it _your_ way last time!"

The darker woman smirks- intrigued by the Sheriff's entirely brazen state of arousal- but the day spent fretting over the younger woman's fate is still a raw stain upon her memory, and if there's one thing she doesn't want this... Session... To be; it's violent.

"No... Last time _you_ requested _I_ do my worst... This time I want to show you my best..."

"... I had no complaints..."

"Nor will you now."

"...Hmm... Cocky..."

"... I didn't think that was our thing, dear..."

Full lips stretch into a positively sinful grin as the blonde lets out a sudden, surprised bark of laughter.

"No... I guess not..."

Emma replies; looking up at her with glittering mirth, and Regina falls down to claim the younger woman's soft smile swiftly before she can think too hard on whether this might be the last time she sees such an expression grace pretty, defined features.

Skilled fingers slip into her hair once more- gently this time- and she allows this display of sweet affection, before shaking her head when the blonde's attention begins to journey further south.

" _My_ way... Remember?"

"At least take off your dress..."

Dark eyes roll with feigned irritability, but the Queen complies with the Sheriff's request none the less; lifting soft material up over her head and offering up a coy smile to her openly appreciative audience.

"Mouth closed, dear; you'll draw flies."

She sarks, but her tone is pleasant, and she allows the younger woman time to drink in the view.

For each cut, graze and bruise that litters pale skin, she herself seems impossibly flawless, and she plays her fingers over her own flesh to mimic the constellations that mar the blonde's.

Pressing her lips firmly against the Sheriff's cheek- much as she had done before Emma took her leave the night before- she remains dutifully still when the younger woman cups her chin between slender fingers to respond in kind; raising a brow.

"Thank you..."

It's just a soft whisper, close to her ear, but she catches it easily, and she swallows before pulling herself together and responding in a much more sultry purr

"I haven't _started_ yet..."

The sharp look she bestows upon the blonde warns her not to elaborate on her previous meaning.

"Well, perhaps you could get on that, then, Your Majesty... I'm all too happy to do this your way, but I kind of, uh, started something just now, and... Well... If you'd be so kind..."

The younger woman's confession is husky, and purposefully devoid of any deep-seated emotion, allowing the Queen to smirk maliciously.

"It's not like you to be so desperate, dear..."

"Regina..."

Emma growls, and the darker woman chuckles cruelly, before taking pity and moving carefully down the bed with occasional tastes of violet and indigo.

Parting slim thighs gently, the brunette maneuvers pale limbs into her desired position; offering a gentle squeeze once satisfied as a sign that the Sheriff should keep them in place. She has spread the younger woman's legs wide, and the delicate web and line of muscle this creates at the very apex of long limbs has her wetting her lips appreciatively.

Lowering herself down comfortably, she takes her time cleaning away the glistening remnants of the blonde's excitement from her previous bucking; careful to keep her ministrations purposeful, and not too focused in on the eventual prize.

She offers a soft nip to the pale skin just below the younger woman's navel in reward, as, despite tensing her muscles erratically and clenching and un-clenching her fists, the Sheriff remains obediently frozen in place. She ponders whether she should call out Emma's previous presumptive declaration that she should harbour no interest in knowing what the blonde might like or dislike in the bedroom, but decides against it.

She has always been intuitive.

And this is her very own game of 'show me, tell me'.

A soft nip: a low sigh.

A gentle trail of nails down flesh: a minute shiver.

A wet, open-mouthed bite: the drawing of the younger woman's bottom lip between sharp, white teeth.

Simple.

"I want to ask you something..."

She murmurs into the soft flesh of the blonde's inner thigh.

"Hmmm?"

"I told you it didn't matter earlier... And it doesn't... But-"

"-The mines."

"... The mines?"

"The first time I think I was aware I was... I dunno... Attracted to you? ... It was when Henry went down into the mines..."

"... _That_ long?!"

"Mmmhmm... Oh, it was on and off... I mean, you _are_ attractive, that's simply a fact... But sometimes... Sometimes I'd think of you as... Well, you know... There was an interest..."

"... I had no idea..."

"Mmm, well it didn't seem the _smartest_ thing to share, and despite the fact I've had you shoved up against some form of hard surface _twice_ now, neither time seemed all that appropriate to take action on the odd fleeting thoughts from the shower..."

The blonde jokes throatily, as the Queen continues to offer her slow, languid attention while she listens.

"No... I think after the first day or so when you came to find us through the hat, I realised there was... _Something._.. There... Something other than... Well..."

"...Showerhead fantasies... I'm flattered."

The brunette scoffs, hoping that the younger woman's position will render her unable to spot the hot blush she can feel creeping across her cheeks; so unlike her, but then, so are thoughts of the act the Sheriff has described in not so many words.

"Well... _You_ asked..."

"I did."

Regina agrees, smirking against flushed flesh before using her tongue with a little more purpose; fingers trailing complex patterns over trembling thighs.

"C-can _I_ ask?..."

"Hmmm?"

"When did you... You know..."

"Well, dear, back home I endeavored to think of yourself as infrequently as possible for the sake of avoiding a migraine, although, to give you credit, you made this _exceptionally_ difficult... But... When you came to me after the curse broke... When you stood up for me in front of Dr Whale... And then the way you refused to... T-to leave me to the wraith... I realised that a lot of the things you did that frustrated me _oh_ so much... They weren't really so bad... _You_ weren't so bad... I think I went through that hat hoping that you would be okay... And you must understand, dear, that was a _big_ step for me... Then, of course, it fell to me to undress you when coming to your aid... You grew on me rather quickly after that..."

"You just want me for my body..."

The blonde quips a little breathlessly as warm velvet dips particularly deep, but no sooner have the words fallen from her lips, when they are followed by a tense silence that hangs about them like tainted electric air.

"No more questions..."

The Queen orders; moving her fingers up to add a slow rhythm to her assault.

The brunette's teasing and the younger woman's previous urgency to crash over the brink of ecstasy have the blonde reaching her peak swiftly once they exchange words for simple pleasure, and the darker woman coaxes her over the edge with an obscure gentleness; slowing, but not stilling the movements she makes with her fingers until the Sheriff reaches down and pulls her wrist away.

"You can come back up now..."

Emma murmurs; her words sarcastic, but her tone both blissed-out and curiously pensive.

The darker woman complies wordlessly, but when the Sheriff proceeds to try and roll them over, she allows it only to go so far as to have the blonde crushing down on her; consenting to soft kisses, but providing no form of aid when the Sheriff tries to slip her hand down between them.

After all; this isn't a case of settling the score.

She feels curiously spent following her careful attention offered unto the young woman that now lies on top of her, and the sweet noises such affection had garnered her leave her both content and hatefully cold.

Rolling them once more- ignoring a low grumble from the Sheriff- she repositions them so that she lies on her side behind the younger woman; pulling her in close.

She is aware in some distant corner of her mind that this position is completely out of character for either of them, but, other than tensing for just a moment, she is met with no resistance from Emma.

She is aware also that the night is still young, and that she should probably see to it that the blonde gets fed, but when she enquires softly into the delicate skin at the nape of the Sheriff's neck if she's hungry, Emma simply shakes her head and responds

"I don't think I could eat anything..."

The fact that this is followed by no form of crude innuendo given their recent activities says more than it should, and Regina slips the hand that rests gently at the blonde's stomach round, and wedges it securely under delicate ribs; creating a tight embrace that pushes the younger woman's spine and backside firmly against her soft warmth.

"Do you just want to go to sleep?"

"... I... I think so..."

"Okay... That's okay..."

Smeared scarlet murmurs; leaving the last ghosts of her lip stain on the highest vertebrae of the Sheriff's spine. She plucks at the covers that lie strewn down towards the end of the bed and pulls them up to engulf their embrace with a little awkward shaking and tugging.

Task complete, there is nothing but silence, and she rests her jaw in the crook of the blonde's shoulder; cushioned by the long hair she had once found so impossibly irksome simply for its beauty.

"...Regina?"

"Yes?"

"... If something goes... I don't know... W-wrong tomorrow... Promise me you'll get Mary Margaret home... Promise me?"

"...Miss Swan ... I imagine trying to force you to leave without that vanilla sponge cake would be futile, and quite frankly, I prefer you without the arguments."

"... I meant if-"

"-I know what you meant... Emma... I vowed I wouldn't rest until I returned to Storybrooke with you in tow to win back my son, and I'm not leaving here without keeping that promise. We're all going back. All three of us... And we will be doing so in one _piece_."


	47. Chapter 47

As morning creeps up on them, Regina sighs, wondering just how much sleep the blonde has managed to get.

If Emma is anything like herself; the answer is none.

Their position makes it impossible to tell however, as, despite a dull cramp gnawing away at her wrist, they have remained with the Queen creating a protective cocoon without moving.

Twice during the early hours she had felt a small shiver pass through the warm limbs she embraces, but neither time had their silence been broken. Instead, the second time, she had simply hooked her ankle over the Sheriff's; as though making her cradle complete.

Now, as the distant calling of the whales beyond the realm heralds early morning, she mumrmurs quietly.

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you sleep?"

"No..."

"... Neither did I."

She admits.

"...Do we have to get up now?"

"...No... I don't imagine so... I'm not sure as to the starting time of Ursula's... Um..."

"Soiree, right? That's what she's calling it..."

"... I believe so."

"Can we stay here for a bit?"

"I'm not going anywhere, dear..."

"Okay... Cool... Thanks... Sorry to be like-"

"-Oh hush!... I _am_ moving my hand though, before I lose the function of my arm completely!"

"Oh shit, sorry, I didn't realise-"

"-Will you desist?! I'm warning you; you apologize one more time and I'll give you something you can _really_ be sorry about!"

She growls menacingly into the younger woman's ear, eliciting a weak giggle, before Emma turns round in her arms abruptly and buries her face into the soft skin of her chest. Caught off guard, Regina blinks, before pulling the Sheriff in tightly and running soft fingers down her back.

"You tell anyone back home about this and I'll make _you_ the sorry one!"

The blonde mutters into perfect flesh, and dark eyes sparkle with weary bemusement as the older woman is all too aware of a slight dampness at her collarbones.

"My dear, I think you're most likely safe... I'm not about to tell those idiots that I spent the morning in bed with the town Sheriff, butt naked..."

"Hmm... Well I guess that gives _me_ leverage should I ever need it..."

"Oh, like _you_ would!"

"I think you underestimate how tired I am of you always having the upper hand..."

"It would sully _your_ name also, Miss Swan, not just mine."

"Gee, thanks!"

"Emma, you are perhaps _the_ most hopelessly socially uncomfortable person I've ever met; you expect me to believe that you would take it upon yourself to go around proclaiming your love for the Mayor to any interested in the matter?"

She takes in a sharp breath, crucially aware of her choice of wording, and imagines the awkward moment of silence that follows means she's not the only one to have noticed her slip up.

When the blonde continues, she does so silkily- as silkily as one can with their face pressed against another's chest- and skirts courteously around the subject.

"That's where you're wrong, I just don't like people making assumptions. I have no issue with people associating me with a devilishly attractive woman if that's actually the _case_... Butt-naked or not."

"I see... You know, your parents may be less blasé on the matter."

"... Thanks for bringing _that_ up..."

"Oh, well, you know, _I_ like to keep leverage also..."

The younger woman snorts with laughter, and the Queen smiles, toying with long hair idly.

"You know... It's funny, dear..."

"What is?"

" _You_ are..."

"Mmhmm, fucking hilarious-"

"-It's like you try to come across as this stoic, frosty bitch... I know you joke you're trying to be- to use your term- 'hardass', but at times your little act can be quite, well, _unappealing_... And, strangest of all; I think you _know_ this... It's just funny... Because it turns out that you're not at _all_ like that... I mean, at times it's like you're a damned _child_ you're so full of beans!"

"Hmm... I guess I _am_ quite full of beans... I just don't really like sharing my beans with others..."

Regina chuckles, before her expression becomes once more sober.

"I _like_ you, Emma..."

"Yeah, I got that from when you had your head between my-"

"-Please..."

"... Sorry..."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah... I... Well, I guess I like you, too..."

"You 'guess'?"

"Shut up. You _know_ I like you."

Emma scolds irritably, and the brunette smirks contently despite the salted sorrow marring her own dark lashes.

"... I suppose we should get up..."

"Yeah, or else there's a very real chance I might suffocate between your breasts..."

"If you choose to put your face between them, it's really not my fault!"

The blonde laughs, but the sound is slightly strained, and Regina thins her lips before finally rolling away.

She swings her legs around and steps down from the bed, leaving the Sheriff lying curled up and alone in the middle of the mattress; looking curiously small. Sighing as she stalks towards the bathroom to clean herself up, she catches Emma pull the sheets up over her head out of the corner of her eye.

Closing the door behind her, she studies herself in the mirror; frowning at red-tinged eyes and mussed hair. She knows the blonde to be the culprit for both, but there is a part of her that has issue with the former.

She _never_ feels like this.

Hasn't since Daniel died.

Was murdered.

Hasn't since Emma showed up and threatened to take Henry away.

Hasn't since...

Ah... But then she has no real comparison for the feeling of losing a friend...

 _Is_ that _what she is now?!_

Yes.

That is what the Swan woman is now.

Whether she likes it or not.

Shaking her head as though to break herself away from such thoughts, she steps into the shower swiftly; depressing the button to allow first freezing cold and then burning hot water to course over her flesh and wash away all scent and feel of the young woman that lies in the other room.

If she is to cope with this; she must be hard.

If she is to keep herself from endangering the others with a declaration of just how difficult this day will be for she herself; she must be in control.

Slipping from the shower, she dries herself off carefully, before giving herself one last, measured look in the mirror and padding back into the bedroom.

"You-"

But the she is interrupted as she speaks; a low knock at the door silencing her instantly.

"... Come..."

Heavy wood creaks open, and a willowy, sallow creature slinks across the threshold with its head bowed.

"Her Majesty The Queen awaits your company down in the drawing room in due course..."

Its voice is dry and rusted, and a crude scar mars skeletal features brow to jaw.

Regina nods, adopting her learned stance of dominance and shooing the mermaid away.

Turning to the bed, her eyes flicker, as during this brief altercation, the Sheriff has emerged from wrinkled covers and sits hunched over the edge of the bed looking alarmingly pale. Swallowing, the brunette offers one last consolation

"I will do all that I can to protect you..."

Before closing her eyes and willing her power to engulf the younger woman without allowing time for a response.

She doesn't need one.

Emma knows.


	48. Chapter 48

By the time they reach the drawing room and wait at the ominous maple doors flanked by two silent guards, Regina has accumulated a growing sense of doubt as to the magic she has performed upon the blonde.

From her chambers down to where they currently stand, Emma had followed on behind obediently enough, but during their journey, the brunette had counted twice the soft, uneven thud of a minute stumble, and as she turns to glance at the Sheriff now, she is met with a hatefully placid expression behind which normally bright eyes carry a strange shadow of confusion.

Indeed, if the Queen had been familiar with the real-world term for one who has been 'roofied' as the blonde herself may have called it, she would perhaps liken the younger woman's state to this.

As it is, she merely deems Emma's numbed compliance as obscure to say the least.

_I'm sorry._

Of course, she doesn't _say_ it- doesn't even whisper these words- but this has little to do with the mermen to their sides. She has said all she _can_ say on the matter over the last couple of days, and has done all she can think of to do.

"Come."

Is all she offers instead; raising her fist and knocking delicately on heavy wood.

* * *

The room they enter is large and ornately furnished, with a ceiling so high that one would have to crick their neck in order to study its intricate whorls. The pearl-mottled walls are embellished with various forms of artwork- most depicting nubile wretches in various states of undress and play- while the wall that plays the room's backdrop appears to be nothing but deep velvet and chiffon.

Creating a stage within their centre, sit three plush sofas; each rife with rich velvet cushions and decorative gauze ribbons. Upon this luxurious upholstery sits the Sea Witch and her honoured guests; each turning their head towards the double doors as they creak slowly open and dispel the Queen and her offering into the room.

"Ah! Right on schedule..."

Ursula simpers, and the brunette's gaze flickers uneasily from the hateful Witch whose attire is comprised of a great many ruffles and little else, to the disconcertingly lanky Nereids clad in Sunday Black.

Dulled emerald remains cast down to nothing in particular.

Beckoning with thick, bejewelled fingers, Ursula coaxes her new arrivals further into the spacious room as the doors fall heavily shut behind them. Giving the blonde a quick once over, she smiles broadly with satisfaction; noting both that the woman in question remains delightfully- _delicately_ \- underfed, but has managed to rid herself of all but the faintest redness caused by her mistress's hand the night before last.

In short; she is ripe for the picking.

"My darling Regina, please, take a seat..."

The Sea Queen pats the empty space beside her and the Mayor balks slightly; until now having been unsure just how great a part she herself might have to play in the blonde's desecration.

To act as such an intimate member of this obscene audience has her feeling almost as if she has been slapped across the face.

Regardless... She does as she is told.

It will do Emma no favours if she speaks up now.

Taking up her proffered place, she swallows thickly, but she takes care to keep her features free from any obvious emotion; merely nodding politely towards the ghastly figures across from her and returning Ursula's smile with a thin-lipped one of her own.

Negating to look away, the Witch clears her throat pointedly as the seconds tick by, and Regina gathers herself with a start; grimacing inwardly, but knowing enough as to the way things work in the Royal Court to proceed without offering any cause for suspicion.

"Girl... Come here... Let them see what I have brought to share."

Her voice seems obscenely loud to her own ears, and the brief glance Emma offers- after all, it _is_ Emma beneath that dull, murky green- does little to provide her any solace, but then slim legs begin to move, and the Sheriff pads obediently into the room with that once more meek, yet placid expression.

Regina hopes it reads as defeated rather than charmed.

She imagines so.

She doesn't think she's _ever_ seen one look so defeated as the Swan woman does now.

Sniffing; she looks quickly down at her hands.

"Very nice..."

Ursula purrs to her left, and the brunette clenches her jaw but remains otherwise frozen in place.

"How old are you?"

This question is lower- croakier- and the Mayor looks up from her once-manicured fingers to regard first the silent blonde and then the creature who has so recently spoken.

"She is twenty-eight..."

She proffers; entirely unsure what the preferable answer might be, and so stuck with the truth.

"Does she suffer from any hearing difficulties?"

The second goddess chides, and Regina glowers at her with well-hidden nerves; dark eyes flickering towards Emma who opens her mouth hesitantly but negates say anything as her brow furrows in confusion. The Mayor answers once more in her place

"She does not. She merely suffers from a tongue too ready to proffer obscenity and crass discourse... It is preferable that the wretch remain silent..."

She offers just the slightest of nods as she declares this last sentiment and the blonde blinks at her with eyelids that seem unusually heavy, but the Mayor is willing to pray there is some real understanding behind those fluttering lashes.

Once again, she wonders whether she is helping or hindering Emma with her magic.

Her anxiety lessens a little as the Sea Witch smirks and points to the floor at her feet and purrs

"You. Kneel."

After all- all stakes aside- she imagines without the mild trance with which she has dosed the blonde, there would be a fair concern that Emma would simply not comply with such an order in this ominous circumstance.

As it is, the younger woman simply does as told; falling into an obedient, prone position in such a way that the sound of her shins hitting the floor is audible.

Full lips thin further, while the Nereids titter amongst themselves as the blonde drops obediently before them all.

"Look at me..."

Once more; the Sheriff's submission is flawless.

Stubby fingers find her jaw and stroke the soft skin there lavishly. Hooded eyes glitter cruelly, before the Witch leans forwards and hovers only a couple of inches from the Sheriff's pale features; a domineering hand twisting its way into disheveled tresses and wrenching the younger woman's head back painfully.

"Show me how you play with your Queen..."

It is a low hiss, and the brunette to her side is appalled to discover that that raspy order is rife with a cloying lust that seems far too much, far too soon.

She should be granted a little more time to prepare herself for this...

_Surely...?_

Currently oblivious to Regina's displeasure, the blonde hesitates for just a moment- knowing that what the hateful woman looming over her asks isn't at all what she wants to be doing, but curiously distracted, as her mind feels obscurely cloudy and her lips feel numb while her teeth feel strangely cold- before pushing herself up awkwardly onto her haunches to comply.

The position causes her thighs to tremble and her stomach to clench painfully, but she refrains from clutching to the Witch by way of some numb instinct; vaguely aware that to do so would be considered 'bad'.

_Bad?_

_Wrong?_

_Whatever... One of those..._

_Just don't do it, Swan!_

The Nereids reach a dull crescendo in their excitement as the brunette looks away. Ursula chuckles against soft lips.

"You're shaking, precious..."

She expects the Sheriff to crack slightly with this vocalised observation; impressed that Emma has so far neglected to offer up any form of her inane insight, but knowing by now that it is the blonde's pride that serves to be her greatest flaw. Such a suggestion of weakness will not sit well with the young woman at her feet, whether it is true or not.

Emma says nothing.

Raising an eyebrow, the Witch bites down on the soft velvet of the blonde's tongue before pulling roughly at her hair once more, causing the Sheriff to overbalance and land on her ass and elbows in a clumsy heap on the floor.

"Idiot."

The Sea Queen sniffs disdainfully, and her guests titter in amused agreement.

Emma simply stares up at them with an uncharacteristically subdued expression; her downturned mouth stained a dusky scarlet from her tongue.

"You settle for such mediocrity?"

The Witch demands of the woman that sits in silence beside her, and Regina slowly shakes her head.

_You pulled her down and you know it, you despicable bitch._

"She must be nervous... Despite the small displays of unease for which I am deeply sorry, Your Highness, the girl knows that this is a high honour... She-"

"- Indeed... Though for the disgraced princess to suddenly place _any_ value within the subject, given her previous insolence of which you speak- not to mention your own- is rather peculiar, don't you think-"

"-Your Majesty, I implore-"

"-Hush, child. Let us not bicker before my guests... You are young and inexperienced, and that I am once more willing to forgive... But there is something amiss with your girl..."

"I don't... I assure you I haven't any idea what you might mean... She fell... Foolishly, of course... But-"

"-You don't?"

"No, I-"

The brunette's words cut off abruptly as, without warning, the Sea Queen smacks the Sheriff swiftly across the face.

Regina lets out a small, involuntary noise of displeasure.

Emma remains silent; Ursula's handprint marring the soft skin of her left cheek in stark relief.

"She has closed herself off."

The Witch hisses, and the Mayor finds she garners little relief from the fact that, as of yet, no real foul play is suspected.

"I-"

"-And that won't do. An unreceptive wretch is a wretch that possesses no use and must be thrown away..."

Regina swallows, but excels in keeping her composure. The Witch's words serve to make her obscenely nervous and move to retract her power from over the blonde, but she has learnt from her past mistakes, and she is not one to act with all haste and no intelligent thought.

There is a very _real_ chance that if she now removes the dull sense of confusion cast over Emma, her initial charm might prove apparent to Ursula herself. Both in the pale woman's subsequent reaction, and in the simple dis-application of magic itself.

There is also the simple fact that she put the Sheriff under her spell for a _reason_.

To protect her.

And, slap to the face and tug to the hair aside; she remains certain that Ursula will do less long-lasting damage if she keeps the younger woman hazy on the particulars of her ordeal.

_I'm improvising here, dear, so bear with me, but I'm doing what's best for you, I promise..._

She becomes a little more sure of herself as the Witch grabs hold of a skinny wrist and yanks the blonde roughly to her feet in order to pull her onto her lap.

Even more so, when the Sea Queen manipulates pale limbs while cooing hauntingly into cornsilk curls; coaxing the Sheriff to sit with her back to her so that she may be on display to the crude, shadowed creatures that watch on through matted, oil-spill tresses.

And, she is _adamant_ she is right in her actions, when the thick fingers that rest at the young woman's stomach begin to trail south and painted lips drag wetly down the exposed column of the blonde's neck.

Yellowed teeth sink cruelly into the delicate flesh of the Sheriff's shoulder, and the latter finally makes a small noise of displeasure; her hands trembling and her breathing uneven and shallow.

Ursula snarls and takes a harder bite at the pale skin of Emma's throat, before pushing her angrily from her lap to land on her knees; wiping blood from her mouth as she regards skinny, shaking limbs with furious malice.

Suddenly... Regina is a little _less_ sure of herself.

A whole _lot_ less sure.

"That's _it_?! This is what all the fuss has been about?! For some bitch that's already been _broken_?!"

"You told me to-"

"-I told you to teach her who was _boss!_ To break her _in!_ Not to _break_ her! What use is she to me and my guests like this? What entertainment can I provide with a broken toy?!"

The Witch's cheeks bloom crimson in her rage, and, despite directing her questions toward the Dark Queen, she barks down at the Sheriff who remains with her head bowed on her hands and knees, unresponsive.

"...What did you do to her?..."

This last inquiry is directed at Regina; Ursula's voice suddenly silky and her hooded eyes black. The brunette swallows, but refuses to entertain the notion of surrender. Like the blonde; she refuses to be weak.

 _For_ the blonde, she refuses to be weak.

When she speaks, it is without any waver to her tone.

"I have done nothing. I have played with her, and demanded her respect, but I have done _nothing_ to break the girl... Not yet... I have suffered her company a long time, Your Majesty, and, as you said, she is one to seek refuge within her own mind... She is not broken... She is merely being insolent and attempting to save face... She may not protest vocally, but I assure you... She is suffering..."

Ursula cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, her expression suddenly serene and pensive, and the Mayor allows herself a brief moment's hope that her explanation suffices, before such optimism comes crashing cruelly down.

"Not good enough."

"Your Highness?"

"Her suffering is of no interest to me if it is to be internal. I have expressed time and time again that this is all about the _show_ , dearest! All about _entertainment_! And there is little entertainment to be had with the bitch behaving the way she is..."

"But-"

"-No matter. If she's crawled into whatever safe-haven she's created beneath those pretty, pretty locks, well, we'll just have to pull her _out_ -"

"-You-"

But Ursula is no longer listening; turning her back on the paling Mayor and directing her attention up to the high ceiling from which a series of ropes slowly descend as if from nowhere.

The Nereids growl in anticipation.

Regina shakes her head.

There is a soft tinge of purple that cloaks the blonde- so minute, it would be invisible to any not looking for it- as the Queen's magic wavers in her disquiet; the strength of the charm flickering with the brunette's nerves, but remaining mercifully in place for the time being.

"Up."

The Witch barks down at the Sheriff, and the young woman does as she is told; getting shakily to her feet, and the Mayor bites the insides of her cheeks as she notes a splash of scarlet decorating the butterfly flutters of the Sheriff's sternum from the crude bite at her throat.

Ursula points, and the blonde obeys; moving to the centre of the room.

Emma finally makes a second noise of discomfort when the ropes entwine around her wrists- not entirely sure whether it is she herself who is responsible for her arms rising submissively over her head- and work to hold her firmly in place.

The Mayor speaks up shakily from her position on the sofa

"What are you-"

"-I have already _told_ you what I am doing, sweetness, you should pay more attention. I am forcing the young princess here to grant my guests and I a little more respect and engage in her role..."

"I... You... You told me I could have her back when you'd finished with her... That you wouldn't m-mark her... _Remember_? You-"

"-I've changed my mind. She'll heal."

Ursula offers with a shrug; giving a graceful sway of her hand in which slick, dangerous leather suddenly appears.

"No! You-"

But Regina stops herself; aware that she has no words to offer up that don't constitute a plea. Clenching her jaw, she looks apprehensively up at Emma who appears to have enough of an understanding of what's going on to shake her own messy tresses, but not enough to holler and scream as the Sea Witch seems to wish of her.

The brunette wonders if the blonde's failure to do the latter is a result of her magic, or simply the Sheriff herself.

She doesn't care.

If Emma doesn't start screaming, she's worried _she_ might...

_Please! Please don't do this!_

She yells in her mind, but keeps her poker face, even when Ursula raises her hand to lay the first blow of the whip.

The cruel, leather tongue smacks against the vulnerable expanse of the blonde's stomach to leave a thin gash that slowly begins to blossom roses that descend languidly down pale flesh.

Emma lets out a harsh bark as her eyes water, but makes no attempt to grovel for her freedom.

The Nereids twist and moan with what the Mayor concludes with disgusted horror to be arousal, as she herself casts her gaze up to the ceiling; not willing to pay witness to the Witch's punishment.

_Stop it! Stop hurting her!_

She flinches at the sharp crack of the whip hitting flesh once more and loses momentary control over her magic; the blonde's response to the whip a much more guttural- _real_ \- cry of pain.

Looking once more to the Sheriff- despite her displeasure in doing so- Regina grinds her teeth as a second streak of scarlet drips from a deep slash across the insides of both forearms; coursing down the slender lines of the blonde's muscles to stain her hair and freckle her shoulders.

The Mayor struggles to get a handle on her powers once more as the blonde's earlier placidity has been replaced with a naked fear which is only made worse by the curious tinge of rage that laces this raw emotion, but she is thrown off as Ursula lets out a long bay of rich, victorious laughter as, _finally_ , her plaything begins to show a little more commitment.

Watching as the Witch pulls back her hand once more- muscle rippling beneath the dimpled blubber of her arm- the brunette is unaware of what she means to do until it has been done.

" _Stop!_ "

A sudden, hateful pain licks white fire across the right side of her face, and she feels something warm and liquid roll down her cheek to patter onto the front of her dress.

Opening her eyes, she is met with dancing fury within the Witch's own, and she is suddenly aware that she no longer sits on the sofa, but instead stands in the centre of the room in front of the blonde.

Touching her fingers shakily to her cheek, she lowers them for inspection and they come away red.

"Oh."

Is all she offers.

The silence that cloaks the room devours this small syllable hungrily.


	49. Chapter 49

_Touching her fingers shakily to her cheek, she lowers them for inspection and they come away red._

_"Oh."_

_Is all she offers._

_The silence that cloaks the room devours this small syllable hungrily._

A silence broken only by the rapid breathing of the Sheriff, before her shallow pant of desperation is joined by an awful melody of wicked, chortled amusement. Bright, hooded eyes glitter as the Sea Witch looks down at the crude leather in her hand, and back up at the brunette who stands bleeding before her; dumbstruck.

"Well now, this _is_ a turn for the books..."

Ursula muses silkily as she takes a step closer to the darker woman; flashing her teeth in a sharklike grin as the latter takes a step back to compensate. Behind her, the wretch watches on with a look of naked fear that differs greatly from the sedate, passive submission she had shown upon entering the room, and the Sea Queen smirks as she ponders on this fact as being just a little bit _curious_...

"What have you _done_ , child?!"

The Witch hisses as she closes in on Regina and touches a ruby-bejewelled finger to spilt scarlet.

Standing tall and ominous to her side, the Nereids titter menacingly.

"I..."

But the brunette finds herself at a loss for words. The right side of her face throbs miserably as her heart hammers maddeningly in her chest, and she forms the vague, chaotic thought that perhaps her body is capable of producing a similar sort of sickening adrenaline to the blonde's after all. Dark eyes darting nervously about Ursula's powdered features, she struggles to conjure up some form of explanation, but she comes up hopelessly empty.

After all... Her response, her _reaction_...

It isn't _like_ her.

She has suffered and accepted the disconcerting reality that she has come to share a 'bond' with the young woman shivering behind her, but this is something else _entirely_.

This... Well this had been a form of _sacrifice_...

And she would never have conceived herself capable, nor willing to make such a gesture...

Only...

Only, Emma is _different_ ; she's a _friend_... And, despite _everything_ Regina has been forced to witness down in this godforsaken realm; playing witness to the damning sight of blood red streaking snow white had been just a step too far.

True, in her time, she has witnessed countless struggles and suffering- has listened to a plethora of pained wails and pleas- for it is through no accident on _her_ part that she had been known all those years ago as the Evil Queen... But, as the Sheriff has continually reminded her- and had seemed to understand long before she had known herself- she is no longer that woman imprisoned by her throne.

She's Regina.

She's Regina, and- like it or not- she has fallen by her own brand of submission to the mercy of Emma Swan: a supposed 'Princess' who would find herself more adept to play Court Jester at best.

They have their differences- _vast_ differences- but she has learnt that they are also very much alike, and, as it turns out- despite her former bloodstained repertoire- the villain _can_ become not just redeemed, but _reborn_.

She's willing to play the Saviour this time.

Because it's _more_ than just the pained cry that met the whip, and it's _more_ than just the dripping crimson that creates a terrible contrast to its stark relief.

It's the fact that this is only _foreplay_.

It's the reality of her burden these last few days, and of telling one of the few people she's come to care about that their pain and suffering is imminent. It's the way the question of 'are you _really_ going to let this happen?' had festered hatefully between them, even while in each other's arms last night.

It's the way that watching- not just anticipating, but actually _watching_ \- the blonde get strung up and beaten bloody had only been the _beginning_ of this little show... And they'd _all_ known it.

She has seen enough.

Pulling away from the Witch's outstretched hand, she pulls herself together; fury replacing her fear.

"You broke your word... You marked her without my permission..."

"I served out a few lashes to an insolent, insignificant little bottom-feeder! Lashes which opened wounds so thin they will become _invisible_ with time, so what does it _matter_ , dear one?"

"They might be thin, but they're _deep_!"

"... What significance does their _depth_ have?"

"Because you hurt her without _cause_! She was obeying your commands! Since entering this room, the girl has made a mistake only _once_! She fell down! And you know full well the reason for her failure! You _pulled_ her down!"

Regina challenges angrily, and, although she can see in the pull of the Witch's mouth- in the complicated movements of her pudgy face- that she is balancing on a knife's edge, she is unable to pull herself back to safety. After all, this is madness, and what the Sea Queen has in store now seems like nothing short of torture, and she will _not_ let that stand. For, even at her worst, she has never believed in the kind of treatment of another that will result in bloodstained stone and wounded screaming. Not without _cause_.

Not for the mere _spectacle_ of it.

"How _dare_ you speak to me in such a fashion..."

Ursula hisses, and suddenly the facade of her simpering smiles and flirtatious ways crumbles away to nothing but dust, and the brunette is met with the true face of the Witch. She swallows fearfully, but when the hateful woman proceeds to take a hold of her wrist- stubby fingers digging in to soft flesh painfully- and pulls her round to face the Sheriff, her anger allows her to keep her composure, and she stands tall beside the squat little beast.

"You disgrace not just yourself, but your _mother_ when you behave in such a fashion, child! So you tell me now if it was worth it? You take a good look at this mouthy, snivelling little bitch, and tell me you're willing to forsake your plans of revenge- of murdering her mother in cold blood before her people as you willed it- if only for the sake of a little drop of blood here and there? Look at her!"

Regina does as she's told.

She looks at the blonde- _really_ looks at her- and she finds herself shocked by what she sees.

By the _reality_ of the situation.

She is reminded of how she had felt when sitting in her borrowed bedroom with Emma after the younger woman had been strapped into that disturbing white dress before the gala. Of how she had pondered on the way the blonde had seemed fragile and weak as opposed to her usual tough self. She recalls all of the times in this past week when she has looked upon the Sheriff in her underwear and worried about her... But she doesn't think she's let herself see the _full_ picture.

Not what she sees now.

Not the exhausted, trembling young woman that stands wide-eyed before her. Those eyes- usually so pretty and full of wry good humour- seem bruised and sunken with the unrelenting stress of this place and lack of sleep. Long, golden curls she has kindly thought of as 'messy' and 'unruly' these last couple of days hang lifeless and matted. Pale skin isn't really 'pale' at all, but ashen and sickly. Delicate clavicles and butterfly ribs protrude and cast shadow; malnourished, rather than fragile.

Dark blood runs and smears down hyper-extended arms and childishly skinny legs.

 _I... I didn't know, Emma... I didn't want to know any more than I had to... Didn't want to_ see _any more than I had to... I wanted to bring you back for Henry-_ needed _to bring you back to Henry- so badly... I couldn't allow myself to see that you were entering a state where this would no longer be possible... I was so worried about what she would do to you, that I didn't stop to really look beyond the obvious and understand what she's already_ done _..._

Grinding her teeth, she looks back up to find the blonde's frightened gaze, and she nods slowly as green eyes widen; Emma recognising the sorrowful flicker of surrender ghosting behind those beautiful dark coals, and shaking her head fretfully.

_No! Don't give her what she wants! Regina, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't do better! I'm sorry she hurt you! I can do this! I'll do my best! But please don't give her the satisfaction... It's not worth it..._

"Untie her... I revoke my acceptance of your request to join you this afternoon."

"...You _what_?!..."

Ursula cries, as she forces Regina round to face her once more; eyes glittering with fury.

"Let her down."

"... You... You would truly be so _foolish_?! So foolish that you would cross me _now_?! Do you understand what I am _capable_ of?! What the ramifications of your fickle _infatuation_ with your little wretch will be?!... You would allow yourself to fall to my kingdom's mercy to protect a worthless scrap of meat whose residency you have grown fond of between your legs? You'd throw your kingdom away for _her_?!... Your taste is despicable, precious..."

"...No... It is _you_ who is despicable..."

The brunette growls, flashing her teeth; proud, even when the Witch brings the flat of her hand smacking hard across her cheek.

"Hey!"

An outraged response, but it falls not from Regina's mouth, but from the blonde's, and the realisation of this fact sends the Sea Queen into a gale of cruel laughter; shaking her head as she supposes Emma is really rather entertaining after all. Looking back at the younger woman in question, she smirks as the Sheriff offers her an incredulous glare.

"So the bitch _does_ bark..."

"Touch her again, and I'll _bite_ too..."

The blonde drawls; and Ursula concludes her comedic act to be utterly priceless as bound limbs tremble and bloodied lips seem tinged almost purple with ill-health.

"Emma, shush..."

The brunette orders, her cheek a stark pink compared to her otherwise drained pallor. Striding towards the Witch, she regards her angrily, her voice wavering slightly, but whether with fury, fear or humiliation it isn't clear.

"You let her down, Ursula, or I'll... I'll..."

"Or you'll _what_ , sweetness?..."

The Sea Queen chides snidely, crooked teeth all on show as she smiles widely. Offering a concrete example of just how powerless Regina's threats remain, she moves back to the younger woman and regards her coyly.

"And what do _you_ think, little one? Would _you_ like me to let you down? Hmm?"

A thick, bejewelled finger trails a line down the blonde's sternum and tapers round to skim the underside of her breast; garnering a low noise of displeasure from the Mayor. Emma, however, remains silent; frowning as her mouth forms a thin, unhappy line and her eyes well up with confusion.

_What kind of fucked up question is that!?_

"Answer me..."

"I... "

"Come on now, it's not a hard question, sweetheart... Your _Mistress_ seems to will it, however foolish she may be given what she has at stake... Did she tell you what she plans to do to your mother? How she plans to rip her heart out before your parents' people and bring back the _suffering_ they once knew? Has she _explained_ the intricacies of our little bargain? Your body in exchange for your parents' death?... A _cruel_ fate, my darling, most cruel indeed... And yet... You _stumble_ now that the question of what you'd wish for falls upon _you_ and not your owner... I'm asking you what _you_ want, Emma, pet... _Do_ you want me to let you down as your Mistress bids it?"

Looking over to Regina, the Sheriff regards her silently, and the darker woman wonders just what must be going through her head right now. She wants to provide some sort of clue as to how Emma should answer, but she is just as thrown by the question as the blonde herself. All that she knows for _sure_ , is that Ursula's offer of release will not be a merciful one. She just prays Emma knows this too.

"... It doesn't matter how I answer you..."

Comes the eventual reply.

"How so?"

"Because you have no intention of _doing_ it... And even if you _did_ let me down; words are so easy to manipulate... You have a fucking audience- all riled up and fucking dripping from the sounds of it- and there's no chance in _hell_ you're about to call this all off... I'm not about to _beg_ you to let me down just so that you can pit me against my Mistress, you piece of shit... Not when you'll just fuck me on the floor!"

The Sheriff's controlled rage catches the brunette by surprise; reminding her why she has perhaps let the younger woman's condition get so out of hand... Being forced into such a sordid position as requested of her in this land might be new to the blonde, but having her back proverbially shoved up against the wall is something she has learnt to deal with... And she has come out harder and more resilient for the experience.

Ursula seems less impressed, and simply laughs.

"Who knew the Fair Queen's whelp would possess a little touch of _intelligence_?!"

"It's not _intelligence_ ; it's _fact_... Regina's right... You _are_ despicable..."

"Emma-"

The Mayor warns, but she's too late, as all of a sudden the Witch's laughter dies to be replaced by a cruel hiss, as she slaps the Sheriff hard across the face.

"And _you_ are _nothing!_ "

The blonde's responding yelp is mostly one of surprise, but for Regina, it's the last straw; one of the Witch's heavy rings leaving a gash through the younger woman's arched brow that wells slowly with fresh scarlet.

_I will die happy if I never have to see that shade of red again..._

Paying no mind to the limitation of her powers in this realm, she sends out a hard blast of magic towards the Sea Queen; her blood seeming to thrum with a new breed of darkness. Ursula deflects this sudden surge easily, letting out a bored sigh as the purple haze seems to hit an invisible barrier, before rebounding on itself back at the brunette, and sending her staggering backward with a wounded cry.

" _Fool!_ "

The Witch shrieks, and the Nereids scuttle to the sides of the room to let what will be play out.

Regina looks up to regard Ursula with teeth clenched in pain, as she sways unsteadily on her feet. Offering up a furied scream of frustration, she tries again; no longer caring to think upon her actions, but simply at the end of her tether with their current situation.

" _Regina!_ "

Emma yells fearfully, but the darker woman pays her no mind.

Again and again she propels blasts of power towards the Sea Queen, only to feel the brunt of them herself, all the while tuning out the Sheriff's mounting hysteria.

Finally, as the Mayor doubles over- exhaustion wracking her entire being- she lets the blonde's panicked cries break through the haze of rage clouding her mind.

"Regina! _Stop!_ Please! Don't _do_ this! Think of Henry! We need to get back to Henry! You're just hurting yourself _!_ _Please!_ "

Emma struggles against her bonds as she tries desperately to break through to the darker woman, and when she is finally met with the latter's pained gaze, she shakes her head and regards her pleadingly.

"Please stop..."

"... Who's Henry?"

Ursula interjects silkily, and Regina imagines the Sheriff's horrified expression matches her own perfectly.

"... No one..."

She croaks, her lungs burning from having the air pushed out of them over and over.

"Who's Henry?"

The Witch tries Emma, but she is met with an instant lock-down clearly visible across the blonde's face. She has seen such an expression on only a few occasions- being a woman used to invoking fear, and thus rarely met with the stonewall blankness the Sheriff offers her now- but she knows that it is the look given by one skilled and adept at shutting themselves off, and that this 'Henry'- whoever he may be- is Emma's trigger. She imagines the complete lack of reaction the blonde shows her now is the headspace the young woman has been trying to obtain during her entire time here. She isn't going to divulge anything else. No. Not with that look.

She'll die first.

Regina though... Well Regina was raised differently... She was once a Queen... And Queen's can _fall_...

Ursula smirks slowly as she turns back to the brunette. She is intuitive enough to know now that whatever secret these two have is a shared one, just as she knows that it's not a case of the darker woman that regards her warily being 'weaker' or 'less willing' to _keep_ it... It's just that she hasn't had to learn _how_...

And besides...

She has proven to be disgustingly tiresome. A little tough love might do her some good.

"...Who is Henry, precious?"

"No one!"

"Ah ah ah... Lying is _most_ unflattering in a woman of your status, my darling... Who is he?... And why does your girl speak of his seeking as though it is a _team_ effort? When you came beseeching me for help, you made no _mention_ of any 'Henry'..."

"He is unimportant... Just someone from my realm... I... I am unsure why the whelp should imagine I spare him any interest..."

" _Lies_..."

"No, I- _Ah!_ "

Dark eyes squeeze shut as the brunette staggers backwards, her breathing suddenly shallow as Ursula raises a hand and moves her fingers with an unseen force.

" _Who is Henry_?!"

"He is _unimportant!_ "

She gasps, and the Sheriff's eyes widen as the Mayor falls down onto her knees.

" _Hey!_ No! What are you doing to her?!"

"Speak to me, sweetheart..."

"No..."

Regina's response is little more than a sob now, and the Witch casts a bemused glance in the blonde's direction as the latter tugs pitifully on her restraints.

"Hey, _fuck_ you! Leave her alone! You wanted some _fun_ , remember? Come and get it, then! What interest do you have in a stupid little kid anyway!? Come and _fuck_ me, you fucking _bitch_!"

A cold sneer and a flick of her fingers, and the Sea Queen has the brunette writhing on the floor with a hoarse cry.

"You best answer my question now, sweetness; I'm growing tired of this insolence... Of this _disloyalty_... You know what _I_ think?... _I_ think there is something rather sinister afoot here... In fact... I'm having trouble believing _anything_ that you've told me thus far... Tell me what I want to know- tell me the _truth_ as to what's going on here- and I might just let your little friend _live_ once I'm done with her... Tell me what I want to know, and I can make the pain stop..."

As she hisses these last words, Regina lets out a scream- trying to curl up and away from that awful agony- and the Witch curls her lip as she raises the leather in her hand once more.

" _No!_ "

Emma shouts over the brunette's pained cry...

... And then everything changes.

A flash of green thrums blindingly through the room, and the hard leather that arcs down in its descent upon the Mayor never completes its blow; disappearing into nothing but ash as the heavy thud of the blonde falling to her knees gets lost in the chaos.

Up above her, the ropes that had held her captive snare and flicker as they burn brightly; wavering with an unseen force and threatening to set fire to the heavy drapes that line the walls.

A new blast of power is sent out towards the Witch as she remains hunched over the fallen brunette, only this time, the Sea Queen is sent hurtling back into the wall behind her, baring a shocked expression that would be comical under different circumstances. As it is, she lands in a pained heap on the floor; old bones protesting in agony against their heavy load and the pure impossibility of their punishment.

Two further flashes of blinding emerald, and the Nereids meet a similar fate.

And then there is only silence.

Regina rolls onto her side and raises her head warily, looking to the fallen mess of their captor, before shifting her gaze up to the woman that stands with her head bowed in the middle of the room.

"... Emma?"

She struggles to her feet with a wince- her limbs sore due to her ordeal, but her mind allows a vague gratitude for the fact that Ursula's torment had been largely visual- and pads hesitantly towards the blonde.

Touching her arm gently, she takes in a shocked gasp as the Sheriff's jaw snaps up to regard her sharply; shimmering green surrounded by terrible red.

_All magic comes with a price._

_...And what Emma just achieved... It shouldn't have been possible..._

"H-how did you do that?"

"... I don't know..."

Emma confides, and the Mayor swallows as she strives to read the complex expression the blonde offers her. There is confusion there, and a familiar disquiet... But there is also an _anger_ in those sharp features unlike any the brunette has seen before from the young woman before her; standing tall with her jaw clenched and her fists balled at her sides.

"She was hurting you."

The Sheriff offers, as if this is the only necessary explanation.

Regina supposes in some ways it is.

"She was..."

She agrees quietly.

"Touching...-"

Both women jump and look to the door as they are interrupted by a sinister drawl, to find Ursula stood between the towering deities.

"- _Truly_ touching... But wasted emotion all the same... A shame... I had such _plans_ for you, Emma... And _you_... Regina... All _you_ needed to do was pull yourself together for a couple of hours and you would be on your way _home_ now... Alas... Plans have changed... Your mother would be _most_ disappointed, pet... And _your_ mother, Princess... Well... I imagine she'll be _quite_ heartbroken..."

A slow smile, and each woman takes a hold of the other's hand; Ursula's words cryptic, but ominous without question.

They are left wondering as to their meaning only a second longer, before they are sent cowering down by a deafening crash, followed by the low thud of the door being pulled shut.

The blonde remains with her hands over her ears, while Regina searches for the source of that terrible noise with a sense of foreboding. She doesn't have to look very far for an answer. Up above them, the drapes that had covered the walls have been wrenched open to expose high panes of glass now cracked and fractured. Through the remaining shards, water begins to cascade down at an alarming rate.

"Emma... _Emma,_ she's drowning us!"

Regina cries with uncharacteristic panic, shaking the younger woman fretfully as water begins to pool at their feet. The blonde regards her with horror; bloodied whites lending her a somehow terrible quality. The Mayor strives to brush her disquiet away, digging her fingers into the soft flesh of the Sheriff's upper arms in her fear.

"You have to _do_ something!"

"M-me?"

"I can't do it... I'm trying, but my magic doesn't _work_ properly down here... But _you_... I don't know _how_ , but you _hurt_ her, Emma... You have to do something! You have to _try_!"

"I...Regina, I don't know _how_!"


	50. Chapter 50

_"You have to do something!"_

_"M-me?"_

_"I can't do it... I'm trying, but my magic doesn't work down here... But you... I don't know how, but you hurt her, Emma... You have to do something! You have to try!"_

_"I...Regina, I don't know how!"_

The blonde cries; splashing frantically through the rising water to tug uselessly at the door.

"You _do_ , Emma! You just _did_ it; what just happened was all _you!_ "

"Maybe it was luck-"

"-No! It doesn't _work_ that way! It wasn't luck, and you know that as well as I do! You can do this... You're the Saviour... _Believe_ me, _I_ should know!"

"Regina, I have no fucking _clue_ how I made that happen just now... But, I know that I'm not... I'm not like _you!_ I don't have _magic!_ "

"Then how do you explain what just happened to the Sea Bitch? How do you explain what happened that night with the Wraith-"

"-But you said-"

"-I was _wrong!_... Or, rather, I didn't want what I knew to have happened to be the truth... That hat didn't start working until _you_ touched me, Emma..."

"Well, maybe-"

"-No. 'Maybe' nothing. _You_ did that, and now you're going to do _this_... _Focus_... Stop looking up at the cracks in the glass; I'm not asking you to fix them or to stop the water or anything like that... I'm asking you to open the door... Just a _door_ , okay?"

"Oh, is that _all?!_ "

The Sheriff snaps back a little hysterically; throwing her weight against the heavy barricade with bruising force.

Regina grits her teeth; dark eyes fear-blown as the murky water- lathered with a foam scum from its pressured descent- rises swiftly; its icy depths taunting at an ever gloomier fate. Watching as the blonde slams herself into the door for the third time- Emma staggering backwards with a stubborn scowl that chills the Mayor as that terrible ruby bloom born of power renders what was once a bemusing expression of childish defiance tainted and dreadful- she wades over swiftly and grabs a hold of skinny wrists; forcing the younger woman to acknowledge her properly.

" _Stop!_ "

"What? Stop before I _hurt_ myself?"

Emma laughs shrilly, and the darker woman tightens her grip- digging in her nails- and forces herself to refrain from losing her temper with the same carelessness that the blonde currently seems to be taking to her sanity. Shaking her head, she simply waits for the Sheriff to desist with her terrifying, barked laughter and speaks with low warning.

" _Stop_ , before you tire yourself out and allow Ursula the pleasure of drowning the both of us..."

Her expression is hard, but it works to calm the younger woman, and she slowly eases up her grip as ominous waves ripple a little below her waist; her sodden skirts heavy with foreboding.

"... I don't know how I did it..."

Emma offers once more; quietly now, and the brunette finds what little relief she is still able to muster in the cool understanding and intelligence that finds its way back into the former's bloodied gaze.

"... But you know that you _can_ , and that's important... Magic is about focus and will... For myself it is something I can call upon when the need- or urge- arises, but it would appear that on the occasions it has escaped from _you_ , you have found yourself in a situation where the stakes are high and it has been more of a reflex than a decisive notion to use it... I'd say this isn't necessarily a _bad_ thing, Miss Swan... The stakes _are_ high... Take a look around and see for yourself, dear... If your trigger is fear, then I suggest you come to a swift understanding of just how _dire_ our situation will soon become..."

As if proving her point, the Sheriff hisses as salted water washes cruelly over the lowest of the lash-marks that line her stomach.

Up above, one of the flaming ropes licks against a decadent fold of velvet and sets it ablaze.

A second later, one of the fractured glass panes gives way to physics and is washed down with the bubbling torrent in a rain of splintered shards.

"...I understand that we're pretty _screwed_..."

"We don't _have_ to be... You can save us..."

"But what about if we get out and she's-"

"-We'll worry about 'what if's if we get out! _When_ we get out! Emma, I don't _know_ what awaits us through that door. We _could_ get out of here only to be gunned down the second we cross the threshold. There might be a whole _army_ waiting for us, and there might be _nothing_... Hell, we could be greeted by Rumplestiltskin laughing maniacally about this most elaborate of ruses! I don't _know_!... What I _do_ know, is that _this_ isn't how I want to go... I don't want to die like this, okay?... _Please_ , Emma...

...Don't let me drown..."

Swallowing thickly, the blonde nods; turning back to face the door and closing her eyes as she channels every ounce of her will into forcing it open.

Nothing.

Gritting her teeth, she squeezes her eyes shut harder and repeats any string of commands she can think of over and over in her head.

_Abracadabra!_

_Open Sesame!_

_Alohamora!_

_Hey presto!_

_Open the fuck up you stupid fucking whore of a door, you piece of shit, you no good bastard asshole of a fucking door!_

Nothing.

Letting out a growl of frustration as murky ice licks at her ribs and her nostrils flare with the stench of smoke, she thinks back on the time spent with the brunette while in the Enchanted Forest, when Regina had used her magic to aid her. She recalls the delicacy with which the Mayor had approached the task, and the the careful logic required of visualising the cause of the problem to piece together a solution.

She tries to conjure up the mental image of a lock; trying to keep her breathing slow and controlled as she slowly works apart the intricate mechanisms that seal their fate one by one.

Nothing.

But her cry of frustration is drowned out by a louder cry of fear, and she whips round clumsily in the water to face the brunette.

"Regina, wha-"

But that's all she has time for before a blazing veil of velvet finally gives up its knife-edge balancing act and comes crashing heavily down upon them.

"- _Get down!_ "

The younger woman yells throatily, but even as the words leave her lips, the flaming remains of the heavy drapes are cast aside in a peculiar fashion that has them miraculously avoiding the Queen. Eyes wide; she looks from the charred fabric- flames dying and slowly sinking- to the brunette with numb shock. Regina offers her much the same expression in return as her heart beats frantically in her chest.

"Did I just...?"

"... Yes... "

The Mayor nods slowly, her gaze flickering repeatedly to the submerging velvet that could well have prematurely granted her wish of avoiding death by drowning.

"You did..."

Gulping back her own electric shock, Emma winces distractedly as salt burns the lacerations that mar the pale flesh of her arms. Glancing down at the coagulating wounds with a frown and then back at Regina, she works her way through their watery peril with difficulty until she stands directly before her.

"...It's not fear... It's _you_..."

"Excuse me?"

The brunette breathes; her composure crumbling rapidly as the water continues to rise. She has little clue what Emma means by telling her she is absent of fear, but she is sure that- whatever the case- she currently suffers enough for the both of them.

Pale fingers reach out and touch the wounded apple of her cheek gently.

"It isn't _fear_ , Regina... It's the opposite... It's protectiveness... The Wraith wanted to kill you... Ursula hurt you... She left us here to drown, and that fucking flaming piece of _shit_ just now?... That's _still_ her fault... _She_ did this...

...And she tried to break my things...

It's not fear..."

"...It's love..."

"It's _anger.._."


	51. Chapter 51

_"-It's not fear..."_

_"...It's love..."_

_"It's anger..."_

The blonde growls, before turning back towards the door and throwing her hands out in front of her. Regina processes the vague thought of whether Emma moves in such a way due to witnessing her own use of magic a short while ago, or whether such an expulsion of power is simply innate. She sides with the latter notion, but is given little time to think further on the matter- and the vague sense of disquiet it births within her- as the heavy doors that hold them captive splinter with a deafening crack, before blasting clear of their frame as if aided by dynamite.

The swirling current of the water that by now offers the Sheriff her long-mourned modesty as it skims the tops of her breasts comes crashing down and out into the hallway in a roar of white waves, leaving nothing but a sodden setting and a damp litter of debris from its depths.

The glistening remnants of sea spoils and small, murky puddles flicker a bright, damning orange with the reflection of the flames that lick the walls above them.

"Come on."

The younger woman orders, already stalking towards the door, and the Queen hurries to fall into step at her side; taking a hold of her wrist and slowing her down slightly as she murmurs fretfully into damp curls.

"Tread carefully, dear; who _knows_ what lies beyond what you've left of the door..."

"Nothing that concerns me."

"... Don't be a fool..."

"I'm not."

"Emma-"

"-She didn't lock us in there for the _hell_ of it, Regina... We weren't _supposed_ to figure a way out..."

"But-"

"- _But_ , I'm betting she _also_ didn't imagine her little game would end up with her sprawled on the floor ass up... _Should_ we have somehow managed to get out; she's not going to be out there waiting for round two... Not without calling for help..."

"... My, I never knew you had such an ego to you, Miss Swan..."

The brunette chides, but there is no real challenge to her tone, and her expression reads only of caution.

"I'm not letting her get away with this..."

Emma states quietly; flashing the darker woman a dangerous glance that lets Regina know she means every word. The brunette swallows; her own rage building swiftly as her cheek smarts and her eyes fall to the raw slices that line the younger woman's arms and stomach. The resultant black fury feels disconcertingly familiar as it encircles her heart, but she is not used to seeing such an emotion from the Sheriff. At most, Emma's previous displays of anger have left her irked, bordering on amused, but this?... Well, this is different, and she both recognises and recoils from the vengeance written darkly across the blonde's face.

_"It's anger..."_

The memory of those growled words sends a shiver down her spine as they seem so innately familiar.

They are the words and threat of an Evil Queen.

Not of the Saviour.

Shaking her head, she strives to push such thoughts aside; after all, beneath sinewy, beaten limbs and that terrible red gaze is still the woman who has again and again proffered her that small hopeful smile and given her the benefit of the doubt that _this_ time, she'd be treated a little better.

_It's still Emma._

_Surely..._

"... Neither am I..."

She murmurs quietly as they cross the battered threshold and stand side by side to study the deserted hallway.

"You've walked around the grounds more than I have... The sentries at the dome and at the door to the castle... Are they the only ones?"

"My dear, this is- as you said- a _castle_... They will be dispersed everywhere..."

"That's what I would have thought... But then where _are_ they?"

Regina frowns; dark eyes scanning the length of the hallway as she deems this to be an excellent question.

"I am unsure, but I daresay their absence isn't a _good_ sign..."

Emma nods, casting a quick glance behind them at the ballroom where a thick smoke begins to fill the air. She imagines it won't be long before the flames that devour the odious velvet and chiffon that embellishes the place escape the confines of the room much as they have done themselves, and a fire with such creeping magnitude will hardly go unnoticed or unopposed for long.

"Probably... But let's take the opportunity anyhow."

"And do what? Where do you propose we _go_?!"

"Well, how far from the truth do you think Ursula's promise to help us will have been?"

"My dear, we just bore witness to-"

"-To what a bitch she is... True... But how much honour will she have placed on her _word_?"

"I don't... Why?"

"Because, she told you just now that if you'd have let her... You know... _Do_ it... That you'd be on your way _home_ right now... Do you think that was a lie? Or...?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not... It doesn't matter _now_ though, I mean-"

"-Regina..."

"... No... I don't think it was a lie... But-"

"-Okay."

Emma breathes, before the brunette's grip tightens within her own as a loud crash comes from behind them. She doesn't look back, but is willing to guess that its source will have been the demise of one of the fractured panes of glass succumbing to the wrath of the unbearable heat that emanates out towards them and increases steadily. For now, such a warmth is almost welcome- she has spent what feels like an eternity chilled to the bone and bare- and her spine tingles as her muscles finally begin to relax just a little.

"Okay-"

She repeats

"- Then, I know you have a _hell_ of a lot more intel on this stuff, but won't she have had to set _some_ things into motion? Both you and Gold- when you cast the curse, and when the book spoke of him- you both took your time... You prepared... If she wanted her fun and then to send you on your way... Shouldn't this porthole or whatever it is you said kind of be... I dunno... ready?"

"... To hope for such a thing is foolish..."

Regina replies, but her expression is one of slow comprehension and wonder, and suggests that- if her words are to be taken for truth- then she is perhaps just as much of a fool as she deems the Sheriff to be.

"Then tell me what _else_ we're supposed to do..."

The younger woman challenges, but she has a fairly strong feeling that her notion doesn't go opposed.

"Nothing. I have professed you to be an idiot for the past _year,_ and I have never found myself more eager to be proven right than at this very moment! As to where she's started- or _might_ have started- to work from, I have no answer... We best tread cautiously, but why not start in the palace itself? We- _Emma_?"

The Queen's voice takes on a higher pitch as her words go unheeded, and the blonde proceeds to make her way swiftly down the water-washed hallway towards the door to the castle's entrance without any discernible thought to her safety. Hurrying on after her with a dull feeling of irritation, Regina supposes that her willingness to do so is a concrete testament to how greatly things have changed between them.

Secondary- she corrects herself- to the uncomfortable throbbing at her cheek from where the whip made its mark.

"You're going the wrong way! What are you-"

"-No I'm not."

"How do you _know?_ We have no _clue_ where Ursula's started her creation _\- if_ she's started it- but why head towards-"

"-Because that comes later."

"That comes... What do you mean?"

"Regina..."

Emma growls, and she stops a little short of the heavy doors that lead out into the palace's stately entrance hall and turns to face the brunette.

"What we just did... That woman isn't going to stand for it... Now, I have every intention of testing out just _how_ sorry I can make her, but first... We're getting my mother out of that fucking cell... _Before_ someone beats us to it."

The darker woman swallows. She wants to chide the skinny blonde that stands before her- so full of rage- for her dramatic wording and her threat to go up against such a feared ruler... But she finds that she believes every word. It wouldn't be the _first_ time Emma has managed to best one far superior to herself, and- just as the brunette is sure the Sheriff would have done her quite a bit more damage than simply throwing her against a shelf of medical supplies had she not needed answers- she has little trouble trusting the blonde on her word that she wishes to make the Sea Witch pay.

That redness glittering behind pretty lashes does not speak of a woman ready to forgive.

_What will your mother say..._

But she is given little time to think further on the matter, as Emma turns for the door and raises a hand carelessly; causing the heavy wood to blast open forcefully and grant her her way through.

Frowning, the brunette follows; leaving a heavy cloud of smoke in her wake.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *Standard apology for taking so long to update*
> 
> In all seriousness, I do realise I suck with updating this fic, but, of all of the ones I currently have on the go/ and have finished, it is the most taxing to actually write as I get the most nervous about bad feedback/ not doing justice to the characters as well as I should, so I hope you'll forgive me. I was a bit stuck on where to go with this, as what seemed like the better storyline/ actions of the characters, didn't seem the most realistic. I've gone with how I perceive real emotions would maybe play out, which I guess isn't always the most flattering/ likeable... I'm rambling. I hope you enjoy, and please review! :)

"Emma..."

Regina hisses as they round the corner to enter the stately entrance hall to the Palace. The blonde freezes at the sound, and flattens herself against the wall; shooting back a wary glance that has the brunette swallowing as she thinks of just what her son would say if he were to see the younger woman in her current state.

The Sheriff mouths at her silently;

"Guards."

"How many?"

"Two..."

Turning once more to assess the scene with swift efficiency, the younger woman creeps back slowly, so that she stands directly beside the Mayor; Regina peering past her while her hand comes to rest gently on a skinny shoulder.

"What do you want to do? Go back on ourselves? Or-"

"-No... We can't lose that much time..."

"Are you sure you can do this though?"

"Weren't you _just_ telling me-"

"-I'm not _doubting_ you, Emma, I'm _asking_ you... I can't... I can't _help_ you... And I-"

"-Maybe you can't _yet_..."

"How do you-?"

"-Why are they just _standing_ there? The place _reeks_ of smoke... They're dressed and armed; they're guards not servantry... So why aren't they searching the castle?"

Frowning at Emma's words, the brunette shakes her head and whispers that she doesn't know. So far as she sees it, the Sheriff makes an excellent point; her chest currently tight due to smoke as well as fear, and the flickering of the flames throwing curious shadows down the hallway. She imagines the fact that the two men spied just around the corner are positioned by the door in spite of recent events would suggest that others like them must have taken on the role of searching the Palace and covering ground.

"Let's just get this over with..."

The blonde murmurs, and she beckons with a small cup of her palm that Regina should follow her as she leaves the safety of the shadows.

The response to their move out into the open is almost immediate; first one and then the other of the two guards turning to face them with weapons raised. Their swords differ little from those used back on land, and the younger woman's eyes flash as she tries to assess their weight; hard to gage as both mermen stand a good foot taller and at least a hundred pounds a piece larger than their prey.

"Halt!"

Emma does as she's told, and Regina comes to stand beside her with her chin held high and her hands authoritatively placed at her hips; paying the sodden mess of her dress little mind.

"What is the meaning of this?... Let us past."

She injects her voice with the tone she recalls her mother using when addressing their maids when she was a child, but is unsurprised when this garners no response other than a menacing tilt of twin blades. To her right, Emma speaks up and tosses her hair arrogantly over her shoulder; making no move to hide the telling ruby punishment that slashes vibrantly against its stark relief.

"I suggest you do as the Queen says."

Laughter at this- a terrible sound; rusted and spoilt from lack of practice- and the taller of the two men shakes his head.

"Your breed of filth has no place below these waters. Your Queen is a figment of your own stupidity, for here we have only Ursula, and her tolerance for you has come to an end. Your Queen has committed an act of treason, girl, and her fate will ultimately differ little from your own... A traitor of Royal alliances and her glorified whore; you will not leave this realm with your lives."

"Words, words, words... Do you know how fucking _sick_ I am of people talking to me like we're all playing out a scene in a goddamn medieval storybook?! This has gone on long enough now, and I'm beginning to get a little bored..."

The blonde drawls; the woman beside her tensing in preparation for whatever wrath Emma's words will bring. She finds little comfort in the younger woman's sudden display of calm, collected control; her past wrought with power and those wielding it serving to leave her chilled as she is suddenly left making unlikely connections between the mannerisms of the clumsy, foul-mouthed Sheriff and those of her sociopathic mentor.

She finds she suddenly misses the hoarse bark of rage and the infantile threats of violence she had come to associate with Emma back in Storybrooke, but such times have passed, and for now, she supposes she should count herself blessed that they both still stand drawing breath at all.

Her disquiet isn't matched by the guards however, who now both laugh in the face of the younger woman's irked retort and move in slowly with their swords gleaming.

"Oh, but we're just getting to the good part-"

"-You know, I liked it better when you guys were mute-"

"-The part where the mouthy little wretch has her tongue cut out, and I doubt you'll be much use to your 'Queen' _then_ , little girl... The part where _scum_ is captured and dealt with accordingly; suitably punished for desecrating an agreement made with the All Mighty Ursula..."

The closest of of the guards extends his blade so that it whispers against the skirts of the brunette's dress, and she shows her teeth as the Sheriff growls

"No."

"No?"

A shared look of amusement between the translucently pale men, before the younger woman raises her palms and scolds almost lazily

"Plot twist..."

sending them hurtling back towards the pillars that frame the entrance to the Palace.

If- as she had suggested- this had indeed been a tale in a storybook- much like Henry's, she supposes- the commotion would have been fantastical and enhanced and riddled with macabre descriptive words and heroic dialogue.

But this is reality.

And she and Regina simply stand silently side by side- her own breathing heavy with exertion, Regina's with disquiet- as they remain transfixed on the two, lifeless forms that lie a little ahead of them; no longer antagonists in this story, but simply mermen with irreparable structural damage and no cerebral activity.

Eventually, the Queen speaks.

"... It took me seven months to master commanding the movement of others..."

"Perhaps Rumple should have gotten you naked and threatened your friends..."

Regina proffers a stern scowl at this, but Emma is already stalking towards the resultant mess of her anger.

"I didn't _have_ any friends."

The brunette snips, following suit, and she watches warily as the blonde pushes one of the guards onto his stomach with a grunt.

"Yeah... I always tried to avoid that irritable burden too, but _now_ look what you've made me do."

Emma gestures towards the fallen men casually, a small smirk gracing blood-stained lips, and Regina shivers; finding no humour in their current situation. Speaking hollowly, she watches as the younger woman wrestles with the clasps to her victim's armour; pulling it loose, before tugging free the coarse tunic worn beneath.

"They're dead, Emma..."

The blonde pulls dusky maroon over her head and shakes out tangled locks.

"Yeah. What's your point?"

She shrugs as she speaks; negating to look up as she relinquishes her ward of his belt and ties the thick leather in a knot at her waist, before plucking his forlorn blade from the marble floor. She holds it out to Regina; frowning when the darker woman makes no move to take it from her.

"It's not too heavy, you'll be fine. You-"

"-How can you... Don't you feel _anything_ about what you've just done?"

"Huh?"

"... You heard me..."

"What do you want me to _say_?... What, suddenly you're all _compassionate_ and scolding me for being _naughty_!? A bit rich coming from _you_... I did what needed to be done."

"... But you don't regret it..."

"No... Just like _you_ didn't regret it when you cursed-"

"-And we all know how well my lack of regret _panned out_! Don' _t do_ this, Emma! This isn't _you_!"

The Sheriff snarls in response; wielding the blade refused by the Queen and turning for the door.

"I have to save my mother; I don't have time for a lecture-"

Gritting her teeth angrily, Regina raises her own hand and flicks her wrist; sending the blonde falling down onto her knees with a bark of surprise.

"-Your _mother_ won't want saving like _this_! You'd break her heart!"

"How _dare_ you?!"

"...Because-"

Regina moves round so that she stands before the younger woman and adopts a lower tone; crouching down so that her gaze is level with Emma's.

"-It takes a lot more than resorting to desperate measures as a means of _defence_ to turn a person... You say your magic comes from rage? Well... I know how that feels... But remember; magic is a tool, it's not who you _are_. The curse and my power were born from anger- from hate- but my choice to _use_ them so readily and so carelessly... _That_ was what made me evil... You did what you did just now because you were _protecting_ us; I need you to remember that."

"I will, but... I-"

"-Don't confuse it with vengeance... That's all I'm saying. Villains don't _get_ a happy ending..."

Leaning forwards, she brushes her lips gently against the blonde's; the gesture one of camaraderie and care, just as it she had kissed the younger woman the previous evening in her bed. She pulls away, and studies the Sheriff as the latter pushes herself up onto her feet; raising her jaw and feeling a sense of relief as- slowly- some of that dreadful red begins to dissipate from around familiar green.

"Villains may not get a happy ending... But the heroes _always_ prevail."

Emma informs her wisely; once more holding out the sword.

"So we're the _heroes_ now?"

Regina smiles wryly as she accepts the blade.

"That's what Henry would call us if this was another story in his book."

"Yes... I suppose he would."

"Though, I'd prefer it if we left out the 'me being naked for most of the story' part..."

"Agreed."

"And maybe the bit about his moms banging."

"... Such a poet."

"It's ok, I'm just the brawn."

"Ah, which makes me the brains?"

"Brains, beauty, whatever you want to call it. Now come on. Let's go spring free Snow White."


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Need to stop writing directly onto here... Finished the chapter, saved it, and lost 1000 words or so. Not good, but it had been so long since I updated this I felt I should suck it up and rework it. It's just a pain, haha. Hopefully, version 2.0 reads ok too. Enjoy, and please review :)

Panting as she tails the blonde across the open planes of the coral gardens, Regina grumbles irritably to herself about the lack of grace their pounding feet lend them. She tries to recall if she has ever run in such a way before, and can't think of any instance other than when doing so willingly as a girl and while chasing one of her horses.

Chasing Emma is something else entirely.

For one, the Sheriff isn't teasing her while frolicking about some beautiful valley. For another, the younger woman is hellishly fast and is 'tame' by no stretch of the imagination.

The brunette sighs- difficult with her lungs burning the way that they are- but manages to keep up well enough until the dark column of the tower casts them into shadow. Pressing herself against the wall beside the blonde and swallowing several desperate gulps of air, she gasps irritably.

"That was _ludicrously_ idiotic! We didn't even formulate any sort of _plan_ , you just threw all caution to the wind and ran off like a mad woman!"

"And you followed."

Emma grins; the bloodiness to her gaze all but disappeared, but her eyes still bright with an exhilarated breed of fury. Rolling her own eyes, Regina beckons over to where she knows the entrance to the tower to be and grumbles

"Yes, like a mad woman."

Holding out her hand to stop the Sheriff in her tracks, she glances over her shoulder with a frown.

"There should be guards out here flanking the doorway..."

Emma opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the deafening crash of fractured glass. Turning towards the castle in unison; the women watch as a snarl of bloodied orange flickers damningly from within a slow-climbing turret of dank black smoke. No sooner has the fire escaped the confines of the building, and the air is suddenly thick with the cloying sense of danger, yet, despite their urgency to escape their formidable fate, both women- one dark, one fair- stand silently for just a moment and do nothing but watch.

The blonde takes the Queen's hand and squeezes it briefly, before a second crash of indescernible cause shakes them from their trance-like state.

"I think... I think maybe they might have bigger fish to fry..."

Emma suggests quietly, without any sign of her favoured sarcasm or irritability. If anything, her tone speaks simply of awe, and Regina responds in kind; simply nodding slowly.

_This has all escalated beyond a point I think either of us could have sanely fathomed only a couple of days ago... And I don't think we've even reached the climax yet..._

The feverish energy that dances back at her from within the blonde's gaze suggests Emma understands much the same.

"Then let's take advantage of that fact."

"Couldn't agree with you more."

The younger woman nods, although she enters the spiral stairwell with her hands at the ready, and Regina follows directly behind with her sword raised.

* * *

When the two women enter the bisected cavern of the cell, Snow already stands with her hands wrapped in a white-knuckled grip around the curious stalactites that hold her captive. There are no windows in her little holding chamber, but the stench of smoke sits thick in the air, and the first cries of panic have begun sounding below.

She had caught the sound of footsteps ascending over the chaos- two pairs, if she should be so bold as to make a guess- but she had in no way suspected- dared to _hope_!- that those pattering feet might belong to the two women that spill out across the threshold now.

That said, she has to blink several times to be sure she recognises either of them.

The Queen's ruined dress has yet to really dry, and hangs off of her svelte frame in a dishevelled fashion that is distressingly unfamiliar. Dark locks frame shock-ravaged features in a thick mess of untamed wisps, and the right side of her face sports a deep gash at the cheek; blood smeared in a drying stain down to her jaw and speckling her chest in a series of grotesque freckles.

Her hand curls tightly around the hilt of a sword.

The woman beside her comes as an even greater shock; mostly due to the notable loss of weight that exaggerates her features cruelly. Whatever flesh is visible on the blonde- which is a fair amount as she seems to be wearing a most bizarre form of hewn fabric, reminiscent of a burlap sack- appears dirt streaked and bruised, her hair tumbling chaotically and matted with what also appears to be blood.

Yes.

Blood.

It dapples her shoulders- though the Fair Queen can make out no discernible injury that might play the cause- and paints her arms. Here, the cause is hatefully obvious; twin slashes opening up the flesh of her forearms a little below the wrists.

"Emma?!"

The younger woman cries out in response, and runs to her; throwing her arms between the gaps of the cell and embracing her awkwardly.

"What on earth's going _on_ down there?!"

The schoolteacher enquires shakily as she clutches the skinny blonde to her as best she can through the bars. Tightening her grip for a second, Emma closes her eyes and breathes in the inexplicably soothing lingering hint of the paler woman's natural scent- tainted sourly by lack of bathing, but the heart is a curiously unfussy thing- before taking a step back and sharing a look with the brunette behind her.

"That's kind of a long story..."

She confides, laughing a little shrilly. Regina nods in exhausted agreement and runs a harried hand through the mess of her hair; dark eyes flickering nervously back to the stairwell.

"I realise I'm speaking to the Charmings here, but we might want to hurry this reunion up a bit."

Emma clearly agrees, as she takes several further steps back to comply.

Requesting her mother move to the side, she raises her hands in a way that causes Snow to frown.

The Fair Queen is given little chance to query her purpose however, before the blonde sends out a strong blast of power towards the clever pattern of rock that separates them, but, rather than the shattering blow the younger woman had been expecting, her power simply resonates back at her causing her to yelp.

The organic bars remain smoothly intact.

"What the _hell_?!"

The Sheriff gasps, looking down at her hands mutinously, and Snow glares at the Mayor as the latter chuckles darkly. It is a curious sound however, and if she didn't know any better- which of course she _does_ \- she would say that Regina's amusement was just that; simple good humour.

Speaking up when the blonde turns to her irritably, the brunette sighs, and addresses the matter as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"If mastering magic simply meant blasting away any small matter of annoyance, I would not have spent the time I did _studying_ the subject, Miss Swan... You can't simply throw your hands out and hope for the best from the power you feel waiting inside you. You may have given Ursula an unpleasant surprise back in the castle, but such things are unlikely to work here. This is a holding cell, dear, and as such, will have been protected against the _possibility_ of 'surprises'."

"So, what now?!"

Emma snaps, but the brunette doesn't miss the flash of childish fear that crosses her features.

"Concentrate. Do it _slowly_... Logically."

"Logically?!"

The Sheriff cries, and the Queen speaks quietly; holding her gaze.

" _Think_."

Looking back to the narrow, organic cylinders that block her way, the Sheriff frowns as the schoolteacher raises her voice nervously.

"Why is Emma-"

"Shh..."

Regina admonishes softly; watching as the blonde extends a wary hand and runs it over the rough, pitted surface of the pillar closest to her with the pink tip of her tongue just visible; nipped between her teeth. Doing so instigates a dull pain from where the Witch had sunken her teeth cruelly into soft velvet, but she doesn't seem to care.

She doesn't seem to even notice.

"Logical..."

She breathes quietly, before shooting an apprehensive glance behind her towards the Queen. The darker woman nods encouragingly, watching as Emma extends both hands, before looking back at her once more with a nervous frown.

"Go on... You know you can do it..."

Regina urges gently, and the blonde bites her lip before turning back to the rock sliver closest to her and closing her eyes after offering it a dubious frown.

At first, nothing seems to be happening, but then the brunette lets out a quiet gasp as she watches a tiny, budding green tendril bloom into existence at the top of the pillar. Before her eyes, it grows; flourishing out into a thickening vine, along which a series of leaves spring sporadically into place. About halfway down the column, a small, white flower blossoms in stark relief, and the darker woman grins.

Watching, Snow White shakes her head in disbelief; her eyes wide and her breath coming in short, quick pants.

Watching, the Queen smiles.

The vine grows and twists and snares; winding over itself and becoming thick with a rough husk that would cause any with green fingers to shudder.

Once the entirety of the rock stalactite- for, really, that is all that it is: protected from power, from mortals, from magic, but rock just the same- has become cocooned within the merciless snarls of thick greenery, the Sheriff closes both of her hands into tight fists.

The vines constrict.

And the pillar of stone comes crumbling down.

"Very nicely done, dear..."

The brunette offers from behind; her tone entirely genuine. Opening her eyes, Emma surveys the damage, before turning to the darker woman and offering her a small smile that has Regina laughing quietly; the blonde's expression wrought with surprise and childish glee.

Shrugging nonchalantly, the Sheriff confides

"Well... It was _logical_... I've moved around a hell of a lot, and the older and sturdier a building appears to be, the more likely you're going to find some kind of weed that's managed to force its way in and threaten the structure... It just needs roots."

At this, the brunette raises an eyebrow and adopts a knowing smile, as Emma turns back to the gap in the bars and addresses the schoolteacher.

"Do you think you can squeeze through?"

"What...?"

Mary Margaret croaks as she stares down at the mess of dying greenery and shattered rock at her feet.

Sighing, Emma kicks some of the rubble aside and reaches through to take a hold of the shock-struck paler woman's hand before pulling her through gently.

Once outside the cell, Snow throws her arms around the blonde once more; hugging her tightly when Emma reciprocates.

Peering over her daughter's shoulder at the Queen who remains stood in the doorway, she speaks quietly.

"What's going on down there? And what's _happened_ to you two!?"

Sighing, and tightening her grip on her blade, Regina shakes her head

"We appear to have overstayed our welcome somewhat... That little trick you just saw wasn't your daughter's first, and while Ursula most _certainly_ had what she received coming to her- and plenty more besides- I fear she may now be out for a rather gritty form of revenge... We need to get out of here. _Now_."

"...How?"

"... We think Ursula may have completed- or at least _started_ \- working on a way to get us home... It's a long shot... But for lack a better option, we're seeking out the porthole... As for where it _is_ though- if it even _exists_ \- I'm afraid we don't know anything more than you do."

"Well... In that case... You might be in luck."


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm not sick, I really have uploaded this fic two days in a row. Procrastinating away from applying for jobs- I've found the one I want, and I'm a terrible optomist- will have that effect. Hopefully the result is enjoyable to read :) Let me know!

_"... We think Ursula may have completed- or at least_ started _\- working on a way to get us home... It's a long shot... But for lack of a better option, we're seeking out the porthole... As for where it_ is _though- if it even_ exists _\- I'm afraid we don't know anything more than you do."_

_"Well... In that case... You might be in luck."_

Wide eyes fall on Snow as the blonde releases her from her embrace and takes a step back, and Regina moves forward so that they stand in a small circle.

"How?"

Dark eyes narrow, but the schoolteacher notes that- for once- there is no malice behind that expression, simply a desperate curiosity. Nibbling her lip, Mary Margaret approaches the subject cautiously.

"I said _might_... Okay? Just in case I'm _wrong_..."

"For god's _sake_ , woman-"

"-Spill it."

Emma interjects before the brunette can finish. She doesn't find Regina's reaction all that strange- they're working against the potentially fatal clock here, after all- but she would prefer that the reasons for such quick anger remain between just the two of them. Offering what she hopes is a winning smile, she nods that Snow should continue.

"... These creatures; they're strange... They stand there at the door and they don't say a _word_ to one another, except for the other night... There was a switch in the guard and I... Well, if I didn't _know_ any better, I'd say they almost seemed, you know... drunk..."

"After the gala..."

The blonde suggests, shooting a look towards Regina who shrugs, and mumurs that it's possible.

"Anyway, _whatever_ was going on, the two that took over started talking to one another. They said that they might receive visitors as the Sea Queen's guests were rumoured to have questions for me... I... I waited, but you guys never showed up, and-"

"-There are others... Other guests."

"I see... Well, anyway, one of them- I never saw them usually; they stayed down below unless bringing me food, and even then, it'd only be one of them- expressed nerves at changing position the following day. He- I _think_ it was a he- spoke of his displeasure that he would be standing guard within Ursula's quarters to flank 'the Chamber'... H-he said that given what went on in there, he wasn't wanting to watch as 'Nineve had been taken on by Ursula during the evening'... I'm not sure what that _means_... but... I deduced Nineve to be his daughter... Or perhaps sister, it-"

"-Get to the point, Snow."

Regina growls, glancing back to the stairwell once again.

"Yes, right, okay... Well, he said that he needed to guard this Chamber as the Queen would be working in there to finalise preparations for her guests after the 'big show'... I... I'm not sure what _that_ means, either, or where her quarters are, but-"

"-We do."

The brunette assures, watching the Sheriff mouth the words 'the big show' to herself and shooting her a measured look.

_Don't even think about it. It's over. Don't you even think about all that._

Easier said than done, as she feels her own anger wash over her with alarming alacrity. Shaking it firmly away, she offers Snow White the most genuine smile either of them can recall since finding out about the young Princess's betrayal.

"We know where that is, and from the sounds of it, that's _exactly_ what we're looking for..."

Smiling sheepishly back, the Fair Queen nods towards the stairs.

"Then let's go home."

Following the others, she feels her adrenaline begin to kick in at a higher level, in no way helped by Emma turning to her and commenting amiably enough

"I hope you like fire."

* * *

" _Damn_ them! Damn that little bitch and her devil's wench! Curse them to hell! _Find them!_ "

The Sea Witch screams; stood out in the crumbling coral with her gaze cast up at the flames engulfing her Palace.

She'll make them pay. Oh yes, she will make that insolent little harpy and her whore pay for this.

She will see to it that the cobbles run red with their blood before the night is over.

But it's hard.

So hard to think, to plan, to remain in control when it's light- so _bright_!- in the thrall of the flames.

Itches- oh, how it _itches_ \- and the rage that boils inside her seethes like a toxin turning her mind black.

Tearing her gaze away from the destruction and its blazing tongue, she faces her guards; the right side of her face flaring with pustules and charring flesh.

"What news?"

What news indeed... Two dead. Two of her _own_ dead, but not by her _own_ hand.

The blonde.

_How!?_

How? she doesn't know- it shouldn't be _possible_ \- but she will damn well make the little shit pay.

To her side, the Nereids scream an ungodly scream; their translucent flesh crusted with great red welts and giving off a rank stench as it smokes visibly.

How could this have happened?

A _fire_?!

A fire in the Underwater Kingdom?

Never.

And yet, as she watches, several darting flames dance around outside the entrance to the Castle.

But, of course, they're not _really_ flames. At least they weren't an hour or so ago.

People.

 _Her_ people.

Turning to her guard once more, she utters words she never imagined would leave her lips.

"Disengage the Dome."

Silence follows- well, from the guards at least, the wailing and shrieking from behind her seems as though it will go on forever- but her words are met only with a glassy stare.

"Do it! Do it _now_! Those devil's bitches may be able to escape a room, but we will drown them yet!"

Madness plays havoc in her gaze.

"... But, Your Majesty-"

"-You think you know _better_?!"

"... The Dome has held our Kingdom for the best part of the century... Without it... The Kingdom will be destroyed-"

"-And so will those whores from hell!"

There is a raspiness to her shrieking as her vocal cords strain to do their Mistress's bidding.

"They will pay! Do you understand me?! Poseidon gave you gills, you worthless cretins! We will simply rebuild! Now DO IT! GO!... Wait! You! Come to me... Come here..."

She beckons those closest to her to come before her as the others leave to begin preparations. The four she has heralded over cower in a sickening fashion, but whether it is from herself or the flames that turns their delicate hide a painful red as their eyes begin showing the first signs of milky white, she neither knows nor cares.

"The Dome will lift slowly, it is not to my pleasure, but it is the way. Once deep enough, unleash my babies... Unleash them _all_..."

A look passes amongst her obsequious vermin, and she smiles a terrible smile of knowing.

They may be her people, but it is to she alone that the eels show loyalty, and now she offers her slippery minions a chance to dine out at the buffet.

It matters not.

 _All_ that matters is that she's there to _watch_ when they take the first bite of the bitch and her girl.

She imagines their screaming will put her in an altogether much better mood.

"DO IT!"

They flee, and she smirks to herself as the pitted fat of her arms begins to boil beneath the skin.

She turns for the castle and stalks back towards its flaming mouth; shrouding herself in a fast moving current of water. It is weaker than she would have liked- the blonde wretch's surprise attack having dampened her power somehow- but she muses that it is for _this_ reason that she will simply force the little harlot to watch as she destroys the other two first.

And then...

A shark-like grin finds her lips as she staggers towards her chambers.

_It's under the bed._

_It's there, waiting, and it will do what I can now not._

_The trident._

_It's under the bed._

And then she'll see what the cunning little witch is _truly_ made of.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Short one, I'm afraid, but more to come very soon! (Basically... after drinks). Also! As I do not procrastinate NEARLY enough, I have created a tumblr for requested short blurbs and art. In no way am I telling you this because I'm good at drawing, but if you wanted to have a look/ reblog/ share/ give me a request, I would really appreciate it :) It's under spookshowbabyx (link on my profile here) , and I just made a 'front cover' (we'll call it that...) for this fic :). Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, more to come, and please review :)

"Are you alright, dear?"

The brunette pants as she leans against the smoke smudged wall of the corridor and tries to catch her breath. Emma simply nods; doubled over and attempting much the same while Snow pats her nervously on the back. Regina bites her lip- worried that relying on the Sheriff to protect all three of them had been a mistake- but they don't have time for such luxuries right now.

And besides; they've made it. With difficulty, and with a momentary scare when the curious shield the blonde had thrown over them in order to enter the building had faltered, but they've made it inside, and while smoke sits cloyingly in the air, they are safe from flames in this section of the Palace at least.

Finally, the younger woman straightens up and offers a slightly more sincere sign of the affirmative.

"Yeah, I'm ok."

Regina offers a tight smile and takes this as a sign to continue on; taking the lead while the others follow on behind. Hesitating, Mary Margaret throws the Sheriff a peculiar look, croaking slightly

"I... I didn't know... You can do _magic_?"

"Apparently."

"I... I don't understand..."

"Yeah... Me neither... Guess I've found out all _sorts_ of things about myself on this little trip."

The younger woman looks swiftly up at the ceiling as the Queen struggles to hide a knowing smile despite their current circumstances, and mutters that they should get a move on.

Wise words, as lack of flames aside; the temperature is creeping dangerously close to unbearable. Still, in her discomfort, the Fair Queen frowns as she follows the others; confused by the blonde's attire, but only in a vague, weary sense. Her primary concern is what it reveals, and she nips at her lip anxiously as she assesses skinny legs from behind. She wouldn't have thought the time they have spent away from the merciful comfort of home- however faux such a notion had been- would allow for such a dramatic change, unless the conditions since then have been especially extreme. Supposing she can't argue with what's right in front of her, she swallows nervously as her gaze flickers to the gashes that line the younger woman's inner arms.

"You told me you would look after her..."

It is a low mutter, and she realises she hadn't entirely made up her mind over whether she should express such a thing out loud until the decision is made moot. Either way, both women pause- first Emma, and then the Queen- and turn to face her.

"What did you say?"

The blonde asks, and, while her tone is deceptively light, Snow recognises the look the Sheriff gives her as one used seldomly but effectively back in their cosy little apartment back home. That 'you better take a second to think about if you _really_ want to go there' look that promises its recipient that they most likely did _not_ want to go there, lest things turn nasty. The raven headed woman is not to be so easily deterred; seeing not just her housemate, but her _daughter_ now... And her daughter currently sports bloodied lips and a general, really rather concerning mask of ill-health.

"You gave me your word..."

Mary Margaret continues, looking past the blonde to find Regina's dark gaze; her mind inwardly questioning why she would go and cause a rift now, at zero hour, but she her heart is struck with a protective pain that she has no idea how to deal with.

"I-"

But the Sheriff interrupts the brunette; all lightness in her voice gone, as she growls fiercely

"You have no _idea_ what you're talking about. You think this is _Regina's_ fault? _I_ set the fire, _I_ got us into trouble, and _I_ made it so that we're having to run now... So don't you talk to _he_ r like that. You-"

"-We do _not_ have time for this right now."

The darker woman interjects warningly; surprising herself as she is able to see the woods for the trees despite Snow's comment being- in her eyes- hatefully predictable. But, then, _she_ sees what the Fair Queen sees- what Emma does _not_ for lack of a mirror- and, while she knows she has done what she can, she imagines the fair woman's reaction is born simply from the unwelcome shock of the situation that she herself had needed Ursula to point out in order make her see it clearly.

She sees what the Sea Witch has reduced the blonde to.

Emma shakes her head, throwing the brunette a brief glance before turning back to her mother.

"No, we do. This is _important_. We have time to make something very clear... Without Regina I would probably be... She's done more to try and help me- to help _us_ \- than I can say right now... Perhaps more than I can _eve_ r explain. I am not a child, and I do _not_ need to be 'looked after'... Regardless... If that's what you wanted of her; she did her best..."

The blonde assures, and Snow is relieved to find that despite the clear agitation in the younger woman's voice, there is little anger, and she looks from Emma to Regina wearily.

"Oh... I-... I'm sorry, I just..."

"I understand... For many things, I never will, but for _this_ I will accept your apology... Miss Swan is right; I did my best."

The darker woman nods, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway in which they stand and carrying on with a greater sense of purpose to her tone.

"Now come, this isn't the time for a heart to heart. As discussed, I tried my _damnedest_ to keep your daughter's backside out of the fire, and would prefer it to not all be in vain!"

Brave words, and they need to be, because her heart is hammering away to an idiot rhythm inside her chest as they make their way towards the ominous doors to the Witch's lair.

"Are you ready, Miss Swan?"

No waver to her voice, and for that, they are all grateful.

"As I'll ever be..."

"Emma, are you sure you can-"

Mary Margaret: no argument, but simply fear.

"-I have to. My magic works down here... Regina's doesn't. Don't ask me how or why, it just is the way it is... And I _owe_ her this... Without Regina, there's a good chance we'd be, well, sleeping with the fishes right now."

The brunette rolls her eyes- despite the small skip of her heart at the younger woman's words- deciding that the blonde may never cease to cause this affect in her, before the door she lays her hand against is yanked swiftly open, and the charred remains of the Sea Queen's face swim into view.

"Well, isn't that just _touching_ , little one..."


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dun dun dun. Please comment :)

An expression of shock alights the women's faces, although each inwardly asks of herself why she is quite so surprised. They have seen the terrible actions of the Sea Witch, and it stands simply to reason that she would thwart their strive for safety once again.

"Regina, move!"

The blonde cries shrilly, before sending out a blast of power that barely skims her target in her panic. Regardless, it is enough to send the Sea Queen staggering back a few paces, and it allows the three of them to fall into the room after her.

Unnoticed by any of them is the fact that the first quick-running rivulets of water also join the fray.

"Why, you insolent little _bitch!_ How _dare_ you treat royalty in such a way?!"

Ursula hisses, but her expression reads more of hunger than of rage, and her meaty fist is clasped firmly around the tarnished hilt of a trident which the blonde places distractedly in her mind along with a few broken lines of 'under the sea'.

"Royalty- at least any _deserving_ of that title- wouldn't treat their subjects in such a way..."

Regina purrs from her place towards the Witch's dining table; the three of them having spread out to flank the woman responsible for the chaos endured beneath the waves.

"Ha! Rich words coming from one whose mother sought to rule the way she did!"

"And look what became of her!"

"Look what became of _her_? No, no, my dear one, look what became of _you_! If my darling Cora could see her idiot spawn now; fighting alongside the Fair Wretch and her little whore! Fighting for that little, worthless, piece of- Argh! She would be turning in her _grave_!"

"Perhaps... But my father might finally be at peace."

The brunette challenges with a defiant raising of her jaw. To her left, the Sheriff offers a small smile, before calling out to the Witch herself.

"Let us through. You've seen what I can do, and your people have felt it too. I don't _have_ to finish the job, but I promise you this; I am _more_ than capable."

She wonders if the surprise she feels as she hears these words fall from her own tongue is apparent on her face, but she doesn't suppose it really matters, as Ursula has long since thrown back her head to emit a bray of wild, unnerving laughter.

"Oh, my sweet, misguided babe... How truly _foolish_ you are! Look down, pet! See how swiftly that water rises! The dome is being lifted as we speak, and soon there will be no cunning little escape available... You and your kind will simply drown... Not that I plan on letting any of you _live_ quite that long."

"... What about your kingdom?"

Snow asks from beside the bed, her brow furrowed as her gaze flickers down to where dark waves ripple around her shins.

"We will pick up the pieces... It is a nuisance, I will admit, but one we will turn a blind eye to when the water runs red with your blood... The dome can be reestablished."

"... By what? By magic? By _you_?"

Emma inquires with a toss of her hair.

"Correct, precious. I have powers you could only _dream_ of..."

"... Then it's too bad you won't be around to lend a hand, Your Majesty... Because you're not leaving this room alive..."

"Why, you little s-"

"- And without your little dome in place, I'd guess there would be very little order and control over who might be leaving and entering this cesspool kingdom of yours... Those... Those c-creatures you've been entertaining as guests... I'll bet diplomatic meetings of royals or whatever is one thing... But I'm willing to wager most of what I have that those things would eat your sorry kind for breakfast if you were all simply tossed in together in one hot mess of water..."

She speaks without knowledge- the words simply falling defiantly from her tongue- but, when she catches a small glimmer of fear glittering in the Witch's hooded eyes, she suddenly understands that she's not just correct in her thinking, but that she's called to attention a situation Ursula has negated to even fathom.

"... Big words, little bitch, but I'll have you begging and screaming before the waters can engulf the sound..."

The Sea Queen hisses, before raising the trident up over her head.

The power it emanates exists as a shock of cobalt; crackling out towards her prey. Throwing her hands out in front of her, the blonde sends such evil backfiring schizophrenically to eat deep, smoking gouges out of the walls and furniture.

"Bitch!"

Ursula dips the prongs and tries once more, and this time Emma tries to focus the rebound towards the Witch herself.

She is almost successful, before a white bolt of pain shoots up her leg and she loses her focus with a cry of surprise. Running her hand down the back of her knee distractedly, her fingers come away red; blood blossoming out into the water.

"What the-"

"Emma, look out!"

The Fair Queen cries, jumping up onto the safety of the bed- although it won't provide such relief for long- in order to escape the revolting body of the eel that heads in her direction with its pin-needle teeth gnashing. The water becomes choppy as the Witch stirs its depths with the trident to better aid her new breed of wrath, and the Fair Queen watches as the riled up minion slips back over itself in a most horrific manner to go after the Sheriff once more. Wrenching one of the magenta shrouds from the bed's canopy down with a ripping sound lost in the chaos that fills the room, she throws it over the body of the eel and lands on top of it; trying to hold the writhing mess at bay while searching frantically for something to finish the job. Spying a bottle beside the Witch's bed, she supposes she could smash it and use its shards- _perhaps... It's a long shot... but_ \- before the silver flash of a blade plunges smartly between her hands to skewer the thrashing monster through and through.

Heartbeat racing, she looks up to catch the brunette's blackened gaze as Regina twists her sword for good measure before wrenching it free.

"No!"

Ursula's scream is terrible; filled with a horrific anguish that sends a shudder down each of their spines.

"My baby!"

Snow gags as the Witch ceases her deadly duel with the blonde- blasting the younger woman with a grief-stricken surge of power that sends the latter falling down beneath the waves- as she lunges over to cradle the sodden mess of flesh and fabric to her bosom. Letting out a low bellow of despair, the Sea Queen's eyes flash a cruel magenta as fat-pocked limbs begin to ripple and pulsate alarmingly until black-bellied tentacles spill from the Witch's body and whip up the waters into a frothing frenzy.

"You will pay for this!"

A horrifying shriek, and Snow ducks just a little too late as one of those dreadful tentacles slide over her and throw her painfully against the wall.

"Hey!"

Emma yells; trying to gather her wits about her as she staggers through the waist-deep water towards this new, terrifying version of the poisonous old woman. Her magic is hindered by her mind's struggle to take in this further horror, and the power she blasts towards the thing bearing down on her mother is weak and obsolete.

Laughing mercilessly, Ursula sends two, terrible, suckered tentacles out towards the blonde and wraps them around the younger woman's wrists; pulling her down and holding her- thrashing- beneath the water in an iron grip.

"No!"

Regina tries once more to stop the Witch with her own magic- more out of instinct than anything else- but her attempts remain useless. Clenching her teeth as she surveys the wild torrent of bubbles flowing towards the surface above the Sheriff, she staggers backwards and lets out a low gasp as her foot knocks against something hard and unyielding. Peering down through the murky depths, her eyes widen as she recognises the brassy gleam winking back up at her, and she looks frantically back towards Ursula to confirm her disbelief.

But it is true.

In her anguish, the Sea Queen had relinquished her weapon in favour of her true form, and Regina is willing to bet that such things have long since escaped her mind.

Watching as Snow battles uselessly against the slippery taunts of the Witch- Ursula laughing and goading as the pale woman beats her fists and screams at her to let the blonde breathe- the Mayor submerges herself beneath the icy depths and pulls up the comforting weight of the trident, before once more cresting the surface.

She moves stealthily forward, but in the end, things don't quite go to plan.

They rarely do.

Not that in this case it's necessarily a bad thing.

She is about three feet away from the hateful beast of a woman, when Ursula lets out a piercing scream and the water flashes a blinding white. Charred lips stretch open to reveal yellowed tombstone teeth, and the Witch pulls back her offending tentacles which carry a similar collection of open burns; flailing as the blonde forces her back with a frenzied blast of power as she gulps for breath.

Seizing her moment; Regina tightens her grip on the trident and lunges forwards, throwing all of her weight into the movement.

The weapon's journey through flesh is slick and gruesome; Ursula emitting a final shriek- wet with the blood flowing freely into her lungs- as the reddened tips of the blades emerge through her chest. There is a look of understanding- of terrible knowing that the deities' fears have indeed come to pass- within her blackened eyes as she casts each of them with a disbelieving stare, and then she is gone. Sinking down limply to become almost entirely submerged beneath the waves; the hilt of the trident jutting out of the water at a peculiar angle.

"... Holy shit."

"Oh my lord..."

"And then some..."


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Penultimate scene! The conclusion of which is what this fic has been all about for me while writing, and, as usual, it happened in a way completely different to how I had imagined it would while still typing away at around about chapter 20 or so. Still, this makes more sense with other choices made, and I hope it reads well. I'm going to try and finish this tomorrow, as the day after is the first day of my new job! *vomits nervously.* Bad news (potentially) for updates/ fics, but good news as I imagine my housemate might appreciate being paid rent once again. If I don't get round to it, I might do some art based on this instead, so take a look at my tumblr 'spookshowbabyx' (link on here) and follow for updates and everything... That was ludicrously self-promoting and businesslike... I apologise. Read, and enjoy! :)

"So, what now?"

The raven-headed woman whispers, despite the fact that her eyes are trained on the door beyond the bed and their reasoning for visiting this hell-hole has been so recently discussed. She just needs to hear one of the others to say it.

"We see just how much bullshit that witch was feeding us..."

The blonde growls, but, even as she says these words, she turns heel and makes for the hallway.

"Wait, where do you think you're going?"

Regina calls- Snow echoing with a similar cry of confusion- but the younger woman simply ignores them and slips from sight. Frowning, the brunette makes her way through the rising waves with some difficulty to chase down the irksome young woman and demand an answer. As it turns out, she doesn't have far to wade; Emma standing just clear of the threshold with her mouth open as she stares down the hall. Following suit, Regina's eyes widen as she watches all manner of chaos unfolding, framed- almost poetically- by one of the large, court facing windows.

"We did this..."

Emma confides, her gaze unwavering.

Billowing smoke; heavy and dangerous.

Flames that spread and still lick their violent tongues where the fast flowing water has yet to extinguish them with its new breed of danger.

"Actually, I believe _you_ did this."

Regina mutters, but she injects no spite into her words. Regarding her neutrally when Emma turns to face her with a frown at this little revelation, she shrugs.

"You set the fire. You angered their Queen. It happens. As for the poor, unfortunate souls of this place, their fault lies in kneeling before a ruthless, and ultimately _stupid_ ruler. Most of them will live. They can swim. Don't begin feeling regret _now_."

"I don't... That might be wrong of me, but I don't."

"On paper- say, a fairytale book- it would read wrongly that you feel nothing. Reality is a little different. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I do..."

"Then come. The water is still rising, and I fear we won't be able to open the chamber door if it becomes to high."

She beckons with her finger, and the blonde follows; passing Snow who stands nervously at the threshold with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

With all three of them stood staring at the curiously curved door at the back of the room, there is a silence that prevails, as each of them understands the magnitude of how much depends on what lies beyond in the unknown. Clearing her throat with an obscene amount of nervousness that doesn't sit well with her at all, Regina speaks up quietly.

"Well, no time like the present..."

Before leading the way to arched wood and turning to Emma.

"I would imagine it's locked... No fireworks this time, though, dear. We have no way of knowing what's on the other side of that door, but preserving it might be important."

Nodding, the blonde cocks her head, before running her finger pensively over the keyhole.

"Well, if she hasn't locked it with magic, I might know another way."

Turning to Snow, she points to the wardrobe behind the schoolteacher.

"Her Highness wouldn't have happened to use any metal hangers, would she?"

Frowning, the paler woman checks, before nodding and holding a couple out to the younger woman with a nonplussed expression.

"Apparently... Any good?"

"Hope so. Hand them over."

Fiddling apart the tightly coiled wire, Emma glances up to find the Mayor watching her with a bemused expression.

"Should I be turning a blind eye to this, Sheriff?"

"Says the woman with a draw full of skeleton keys..."

The blonde teases as she lowers her attention down to the fiddly wires in her hand and inserts them into the keyhole with careful concentration. Moving her fingers with a calculated precision that surprises both of the older two women watching, she scrunches up her nose as she works with baited breath.

" _Ha!_ Did you hear that? I think I did it!"

A grin of smug glee that Mary Margaret realises she has sorely missed, and the Sheriff pushes at the door experimentally and laughs when it creaks open.

"Good work-" Regina sniffs, "-though I suppose that a lack of magic means I _would_ have been able to do that myself."

Emma struggles to close the door behind them in hopes of keeping the water at bay and shoots her an irritable look, which the brunette matches with amused disdain and a slow flash of her tongue between perfect teeth. The younger woman rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, you can help us _now_. What are we even looking fo-"

But she stops dead in her tracks; the humming, pulsing orb of light that centres the room when she turns around serving to render her question moot.

"... What is _that_?"

"That, my dear, is a porthole... And a very good sign, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"She actually did it..."

Snow whispers, taking a few tentative steps forward and extending her fingers just shy of the wispy orb that spans about six feet in diameter.

"She was telling the truth... We can go _home_..."

The Fair Queen's eyes water as she turns to the others; their faces cast with strange shadows and eery webs of light cast lazily from the porthole.

"It would appear so..."

The brunette replies; her chest suddenly tight. It is what they had been hoping for, depending on, risked everything for... And it's here. It exists. This is what it has all been about.

Forcing a business-like smile, she regards the paler two with a soft kind of awe.

"Well... I'd say we've waited long enough, wouldn't you? What are we still doing here? Waiting to drown?!"

Harsh, shrill laughter at this, but it's okay. It's going to be okay.

Grinning a little anxiously, the blonde takes a couple of steps towards the porthole and eyes its promises curiously, detecting the faintest smell of iron and lavender.

"So how do we do this... One at a time?"

"That seems like as good an idea as any..."

Regina nods, and the Sheriff swallows, the brilliant light of the orb turning her eyes silver.

"Wh-who first?"

A shared silence between the older two, and a thoughtful regard of one another, before the Fair Queen takes a step forwards and the darker woman nods.

"I'll go first."

"... You're sure it's safe?"

Emma asks with a curiously timid note to her voice that strikes Regina as strangely childish. Speaking up, she nods once more

"I've used portholes once or twice in the past. This one looks to be all in order."

"It'll be fine... I'll see you in just a second on the other side."

Snow smiles, pulling the blonde into a swift embrace that the younger woman reciprocates gladly. Watching on, the brunette interjects seriously

"Indeed you shall. Once a porthole has been entered, it only stays open for so long. You and I will go through right behind her, Miss Swan."

Looking back at the darker woman and nodding her understanding, the Sheriff releases Mary Margaret slowly, and offers a small smile and a nod of encouragement.

"Well then... Good luck."

"And to the two of you... I... I'll see you in a second."

The Fair Queen bids with a smile showcasing just a few too many teeth. She steps forward, and with one last glance at the blonde, she disappears through the curious centre of light that seems to be neither liquid nor gas. A loud whirring fills the room, and then she is gone, the porthole seeming to ebb and flow in response to its infiltration.

"...Did it work?"

Emma asks, her eyes wide and focused on the orb.

"...Regina? Did it work?"

But she receives no answer, and when she looks back over her shoulder at the darker woman, her face falls slowly.

"What... What is it? What's _wrong_?!"

But the brunette simply shakes her head, her own expression a wounded snarl.

"Regina?!"

"No... No... This can't _be_..."

" _What_? What can't be?! Regina, _please_? What's going on?! Is Mary-"

"-It's white. It's turned white."

"... Is that... Is that _bad_? Is it- Goddamn it, please tell me what's happening?!"

Emma shouts, eyes wide as she takes a hold of the darker woman's wrists and squeezes in an attempt to get her attention.

"... Portholes only stay open for a certain amount of time..."

"I know, but... It can't be closed _yet_! It... It _can't_ be... Can it?"

"No... It's still open."

"Then-"

"Some portholes- most, actually- also carry a limit of magic... How many can enter and how many can leave..."

"I dont-..."

"... There is only enough magic left for one of us... We can't both go through."

"But-"

"-You weren't supposed to come with us..."

The brunette whispers with a terrible sense of understanding.

"... So what do we do?"

The Sheriff asks in a small voice, her mouth forming an unhappy line as the Queen remains transfixed on the orb with a hateful kind of apathy.

"... There's nothing we _can_ do... She built it for two..."

Regina shakes her head, dark eyes watering, and before she knows it's coming, tears start spilling down her cheeks; stinging as they run through the cruel gash that lines the bone.

"... She's won..."

The darker woman states in a throaty whisper; wanting nothing more than to sit down and bawl like she might have done as an infant. She is exhausted... And for _what!_? She knows what the next question is going to be as well as Emma does, and she doesn't have an answer.

How could she?

Shock alighting anguished features as the brunette staggers against her, Emma catches her with a bruising grip to her upper arms and lowers her awkwardly as the Queen sags to the floor where water has begun to seep through.

"Hey now, come on, please, I can't-"

"-You can't _what_?! Do this on your own? At what point have you had to do _any_ of this on your own?!"

"I-"

"-that said, you better get used to it... Because only o-one of us can... c-can..."

"No."

" _No_?!"

"I refuse to accept that."

The blonde spits angrily; crouching over the Mayor with a thunderous expression.

The darker woman laughs miserably.

"Then you will either die here or survive... But either way, you will do so as a fool."

"Then you tell me what you want me to do? What? We're going to draw straws or something? Russian Roulette in the Witch's Chamber? Is that what this is all going to come _down_ to!?"

"... Emma..."

"I'm _not_ going without you..."

"... Then... You're going to have to watch me leave you here."

Regina sniffs, but she makes no move to get up, and she is slowly struck by the final, obscure realisation that she can't go through with her words. The younger woman seems to call her bluff- that, or her stubborn nature flares angrily- and growls

"Fine. Go on then."

"I-"

"-You're not going to. I'm not going to be so arrogant so as to tell you that you can't, but-"

"-I can't."

"Then we agree..."

"But, Emma... Henry... We can't... We can't _both_... I... I can't leave you here..."

"...But..."

"But, I can't leave him on his own over there, _either_... I love you. It may be obscure, but I do... God knows _why_... But I love Henry, too... I'm not going to argue about mothering- not _now_ \- but almost eleven years ago, I signed my name on a stack of papers and made a promise to look after that little boy that I can't break. He needs _one_ of us, Emma... So... As much as it kills me... We need to figure out which one of us that _is_... And fast, because-"

"-wait, what?"

"Emma, I know it-"

"-no. What did you say?... It kills you?"

"Well, I-"

"-Regina... How do portholes work?"

"I... I don't..."

"It _can't_ be size."

The blonde mutters, and she talks more to herself now, as the Queen regards her tearily and with her brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Well, say I was fat, like, _really_ fat, or-"

"-but you're not..."

"No, but if I _was_!"

"... I would tell you to rethink some of your wardrobe choices, but I imagine life in general would go on. What are you-"

"-Portholes don't work on mass."

"... Well.. No. They work on life. On essence. Why? Because if you're going to propose one of us brings back the remains of the other for the sake of making Henry feel better about any of this, I would swiftly suggest I might be the one to go through as you seem to have lost your mind."

"Of course not!... Well... Not _exactly_..."

"Miss Swan, I-"

"-Essence is in the heart, isn't it? I mean, not scientifically, it's all fairytale crap, but... _That_ thing never came up during science class."

She points to the orb, and the Queen's eyes widen as she slowly begins to understand what the younger woman proposes.

"Yes... Essence is in the heart."

"What about when the heart is _taken_?"

"It would still exist... In a slightly different form, but-"

"If you held my heart in your hand. If I was _empty_..."

The blonde encourages; excitement and hope tainting her words until Regina shakes her head solemnly.

"Whether in my hand or in your chest... A heart is still a heart."

"... Then I'll leave it here."

"Emma, you-"

"-What? You took _hundreds_ of them and those people still lived on until the vessel was crushed. I'll protect it, disguise it, _whatever_... If you take my heart, we can _both_ go!"

"... No."

"But... But _why_? If it'll work... Why would you say _no_?!"

"... Because. I'm done watching you suffer."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's not pleasant... But it doesn't hurt terribly... Tell me, though. What would I have to go back to? What would I have to go back to if your parents, if Snow White and Prince Charming, if _Henry_ found out that I took your heart..."

"But... You _have_ to... Regina, they'll see that, they'll _understand_! We don't have another _choice_ , and we need to hurry, and-"

"-We do."

"We-"

"- _You_ have to do it. You have to take _mine_."

"... I..."

"You _say_ they'll understand... But they won't. Not after everything that's happened. Not even your mother, despite what she's seen here. A couple of hours doesn't eradicate the years of vengeance seething between us. Maybe not even Henry... In time.. Well, I believe in time he will understand that things have changed between you and I... But, no matter how the boy felt when he worried about the others prosecuting me... He is still just a _boy_. The idea of 'good' and 'evil' is one of the first a child might comprehend. He loves me, as he does you, and I believe that over the last year he has made a space in his heart for each of us simply as his mothers, much as I _despised_ the thought... But, he is still a month from turning eleven, Emma, and he sees things the way they have been theatrically portrayed. I am the Evil Queen. I _cannot_ take the Saviour's heart. Not if I wish for things to change for the better... And I want that more than _anything_."

"But, if I take yours..."

"You did it to save me."

"But-"

-Shush now... You're a clever girl, you know. First with the vines back in the cell, now with this... Of course, I _knew_ you were clever, however well you hid such a thing. I would hardly have been bested by one unworthy of opposing me... So let me return the favour. You are going to take my heart... And it's going to have been the only way. We're going to _make_ it so."

"... How?"

"Well, that depends."

"On?"

"Do you think you can carry me over there towards the porthole?"

"Do I think I _'can_ '? You're many things, Your Majesty, but portly is not one of them."

"And _you_ have a look about you of one suffering a terminal illness, so answer my question, and answer it with the seriousness this situation warrants."

"...Yes. I can do that."

"Good."

"... Something wrong with your legs?"

"No. But one's legs tend not to function when they find themselves unconscious."

"Wait, what?"

"All will become clear."

"Okay, but I don't-"

"-You insisted I stop asking you whether you trust me. If you still do, then you'll do as I say."

"... I do."

"Then do it. Take it."

"I..."

Emma frowns, her hand hovering between them as she swallows nervously and looks back up at the brunette for guidance.

"Well, go on, don't be shy. Nothing you haven't seen and felt before."

"... Will it hurt you?"

"Not if you're careful."

Regina replies, but the clench to her jaw suggests that this might constitute a white lie. Biting her battered lip and gathering herself, the blonde leans forward purposely and kisses the darker woman softly. Sliding her hand up between pert breasts, she sweeps ever so slightly to the left and presses down lightly. When the brunette gives a small nod, she reaches just that little bit further, and makes a small noise of distress as her fingers become wet and obscurely warm. The Queen digs in her own nails as she clutches at the younger woman's skinny knee, but she deepens their kiss encouragingly as Emma closes her hand around the throbbing vessel and pulls back slowly.

"... Holy shit..."

"You never excelled in Sunday school, did you?"

The brunette murmurs as she smiles wearily; amused at the slightly traumatised look the Sheriff throws the eery glow that ebbs out from between her fingers. Turning her wrist and opening up her palm, Emma holds out the Queen's heart between them shakily.

"I... I'm sorry if that hurt."

"Not at all, dear. You're a natural..."

"I... I think I'd rather not be."

"Then don't use your talents. I see no reason why you should need to after we return... And I would find myself most unimpressed if you were to use that _particular_ method on anyone else... Cunningly distractive..."

Emma grins sheepishly and shakes her head.

"No, I think you're alright on that count."

"Good. Now give it here."

The brunette holds out her hand and allows the Sheriff to deposit her burden tentatively. Studying the eery glow of her life-force pensively, the darker woman sighs and closes her eyes; purple smoke engulfing the vessel momentarily. When it dissipates, a ruddy block of stone encases the secret within.

"A protection spell... It should serve to keep it safe for a great many years longer than a natural life... Now you."

"Me?"

"It never hurts to be cautious."

Accepting the pitted rock the brunette offers her, the blonde hesitates for a moment, before closing her own eyes and allowing a silver light to emanate from her palm. When it dims... Nothing remains.

"Curiosity is one of life's greatest killers. Ask any cat. People can't pry over something they can't see."

She makes a curious gesture of dropping nothingness into the water that now puddles slowly around them, and the brunette raises an eyebrow as this action is followed by a small splash.

"... As I said... Clever girl."

"Well, I-"

But the blonde's words are cut short as she lets out a cry of surprise; the Mayor closing her eyes as the lids gleam violet. A fist-sized chunk of pearl-mottled rock breaks off from the wall with a painful screech, before hurtling towards the two women sat shivering in the slow-rising waves. Emma ducks on instinct, and winces as the make-shift ammunition catches the Mayor smartly on the temple.

"Regina?!"

The Queen falls back, eyes still closed, with a thin trickle of blood seeping from beneath her hair line.

"Hey! Regina! Are you-"

But the blonde stops in her futile attempt at shaking the darker woman.

_...You are going to take my heart... And it's going to have been the only way. We're going to make it so._

_... How?"_

_Well that depends._

_On?_

_Do you think you can carry me over there towards the porthole?_

The graze left by the rock is both clean and precise. And carefully- almost _vainly_ \- hidden within the darker woman's hairline.

"... I had to take your heart. You weren't awake to take mine."

The Sheriff whispers.

Battling away her sudden fear at being thrown behind the wheel, she glances up at the dimming glow of the orb. Swallowing, she pushes herself to her feet and struggles to get a decent hold on the brunette; careful that she won't end up injuring the darker woman in any way. Staggering over to the maddening light that centres the room, she closes her own eyes and steps trustingly into the abyss.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The end! Phew! This one has been tricky at times, but thanks for putting up with me, and I hope it was worth the wait. This is also where I bitch childishly at ABC for stealing my planned ending so cruelly... Though I suppose I have stolen their characters... So... Hope you enjoy :) Please please please comment :) Thanks! :)

Light.

Hazy, but constant, and irritatingly bright.

Fluttering sooty lashes with lethargic confusion, the brunette waits for her head to clear and stares up at the ceiling.

White. Accented by a grand- but not overly ostentatious- chandelier.

Her chandelier.

Her Ceiling.

Her room.

_Home._

Mouth opening in surprise, she lifts her head with little care when this sends a dull pain throbbing down from her right temple, and struggles to prop herself up onto her elbows to better survey her surroundings.

The light comes from the sun- a sight sorely missed- as it streams in through the window; the curtains hanging folded and forlorn to the sides. It plays off of her old, familiar furniture prettily. Her vanity table. Her dresser. The re-upholstered Chesterfield in the corner.

And the sleeping blonde who sits curled up in its seat.

Smirking, Regina takes in softly parted lips that reveal a flash of teeth, and slow- just audible- breath as the Sheriff slumbers with her chin rested in her hand.

"Careful, dear. You'll wind up drooling."

Her voice is rich and loud in the early morning silence, and Emma wakes with a start; blinking childishly.

"You're awake!"

The blonde grins happily, and Regina rolls her eyes as she pushes herself back against the headboard and regards her visitor wearily.

"It would appear so..."

She smiles gently as the Sheriff rearranges herself stiffly in the chair; recognising the black slacks and scarlet sweater the younger woman wears as her own.

Clearing her throat as she catches the object of the brunette's attention, Emma addresses her shyly

"I hope you don't mind... I just didn't want to spend another second in that tunic thing..."

Noting the damp fall to golden tresses, the Mayor hazards a guess that the Sheriff has made use of her shower as well as her wardrobe. She smirks at the thought and drawls sultrily

"It wasn't really a good look for you, no... But you _do_ have clothes back at your own place..."

It is a baited statement, and she raises an eyebrow curiously as Emma nods and crosses her legs up beneath herself in the chair.

"I do... I haven't been back there yet, though."

"... You've been here since we returned? How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours... I was a bit worried, but Whale said your responses were normal."

" _Dr Whale_ was here?"

"No, David called him when we were still out in the woods. We came through by that old _well_ for some reason... Mary Margaret was practically in fits because we took so long to follow her... I told her what happened- well, the fact that you'd been knocked out by a rock that broke off of the wall, and that I then had to figure out how to get you over- and she went running down to the edge of the clearing to call for help... It was all a bit crazy; everyone flocking over and stuff. To be honest with you, I was kind of a bit jealous of your out-for-the-count state... People here sure do like to _hug_... I guess maybe I'm not the best actress though, as before all too long I got David coming up to me asking if I wanted a ride home while Snow 'briefed the people'... Whatever _that_ means... I asked him to take us here instead. He helped me get you into the car, and upstairs into bed. I didn't want to leave you, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I borrowed some of your stuff to wear..."

"Not at all... Though I could fall so low as to point out I have grown quite fond of your al fresco state, but I imagine _you_ might find yourself pleased to be fully-clothed again..."

"I'm not going to lie; I just greeted half the town in what was for most intents and purposes a sack- a sack that didn't cover a _huge_ amount either-... I think I've discovered a new obsession with layering."

Regina smirks at this before enquiring lightly

"And what did your parents have to say?"

"...Well, I don't think it was really the time or place to comment on my dress sense. Perhaps if I-"

"-I meant about you asking to come _here_... For your father at least, I am still the Evil Queen... And you've been missing for a while now... I imagine they would have rather you come home with them so they could clean you up and, you know, 'love' you."

"... They weren't _overly_ pleased."

"I see."

"...David suggested you might rather be left alone to sleep off your injuries... I'm not a doctor, but I'm not sure that's really how it works... I don't think he was stoked about leaving me here... Mary Margaret either to tell you the truth... But, they'll get over it. I asked them to keep an eye on Henry until you were up and about..."

"You saw him?"

"No. David left him with Ruby when he came down to meet us at the well. I'm not sure it would have been that great of an idea him seeing his mother with a face-full of blood anyway..."

"... And yet, out of the two of us, I seem to have faired quite a bit better... Did you look in the mirror when you showered?"

It is a genuine question- free from the brunette's patent disdainful smirk- and the younger woman licks her bruised lips awkwardly.

"... I didn't even realise it was _me_ for a second..."

"No... I'm not surprised..."

"Though, having scrubbed off about a pound of dirt and grime, I feel a little more like myself."

Regina smiles, but points out seriously

"I'm not sure you really have any pounds left to _lose_ , dear."

Emma shrugs, yawning, and playing with her hair idly as she regards the darker woman with an obscure, unmasked fondness that has the latter swallowing silently.

"That _was_ another reason for staying here to look after you... I'm not sure I could _handle_ those two commenting and worrying and trying to feed me up."

"And what makes you think _I_ don't plan on doing just that?"

"Well, I-"

"-I'm serious. Did you at least have a look in the pantry to see if there was anything you could have while you were waiting?"

The blonde scowls irritably, rolling her eyes at the maternal worrying evident in the Queen's suddenly stern tone.

"After dragging your ass into a porthole, through the woods and up the stairs, I'm pretty impressed I didn't just go right ahead and fall asleep in the _shower_. I'm not sure I even waited 'til I was fully in the chair before passing out."

The brunette nods slowly, before closing her eyes and murmuring quietly

"...You did well, dear... You did very well..."

" _I'm_ not the one that skewered the bitch..."

A tired smile at this as the darker woman keeps her lashes drawn, and muses softly

"I never said that my own actions didnt warrant impressive merit as well."

Emma chuckles at this and the Mayor opens her eyes to study cornsilk tresses haloed brightly by the sun. Pushing herself up so that she sits without support, she rubs at her temple and inspects her fingers, raising an eyebrow when they come away clean.

"...I didn't patch it up because the cut's under your hair... That, and I have no clue where you keep your band aids. I cleaned it with some of the TCP you had under the sink. Your cheek too. I... I'm not sure if that will scar..."

Regarding the Sheriff pensively, the darker woman touches her fingers gingerly to soft skin and shrugs.

"There are coverups for such imperfections if it comes to it... I would do it again, Miss Swan. I would do it a thousand times."

"... I know..."

"Did you clean _yourself_ up while you were at it?"

She points to the younger woman's arms covered by her sweater, and Emma breezes sarcastically

"No, no, I decided not to bother."

"... You have a very warped idea of what constitutes as humour."

"I guess that's why I never went into stand-up."

"Quite."

Regina smirks; eyes glittering as she keeps her gaze locked within the blonde's. Her mind still struggles to comprehend everything that has occurred over the past couple of weeks, but she decides that if there's one thing she suffers _no_ confusion about at all, it is her feelings as to Emma sitting neatly curled up in her chair as if she belongs there.

Belongs _here_.

"Well, much as I'm sure you'll do your best to play the part of surly grouch that you have honed _so_ well over this last year, I don't believe for a second that you'll have any issue with me cooking something hot and filling for the both of us. I'll even let you eat it all by yourself."

"... Regina..."

The blonde frowns, and the darker woman sighs as she supposes such a quip might have been in ill taste.

"... I apologise. If I don't make light of some of the things that happened back there, I don't think I could stand it. That was a terrible thing to-"

"-It's okay. I thought it was kind of funny."

Emma smiles tightly, but her eyes don't convey much humour.

"Well, I-"

"-I just... There's something we need to sort out first... Before I... Before I lose the nerve."

"... Alright?"

Regina frowns apprehensively. If it had been anyone else, she might have at least tried to hazard a guess as to the meaning behind such ambiguous words, but she has learnt not to make any assumptions when it comes to the Sheriff.

"I... I took your heart..."

"Yes, dear. I know. I was there."

The brunette sniffs; a little concerned at the way the younger woman seems suddenly nervous. Taking the bite out of her words, she beckons the blonde over swiftly, and pulls her gently down to straddle her blanketed thighs when Emma slowly complies and pads towards the bed.

"Yes... You took my heart... You had to..."

"... I know... But what now?"

"What now? How do you mean?"

"Do you... I mean, can you still... I mean... I... I _love_ you.. But-"

"-I love you too."

"But how _can_ you?"

"Without my heart?"

Regina asks, and the Sheriff nods silently.

"...I can't feel things like I once could, that's true... But... I _can_ still love. If the feeling is strong enough... I am still able to love you."

"But not fully... Henry neither..."

Emma bites her lip guiltily and the brunette frowns.

"Miss Swan... I asked you to take my heart for one very _simple_ reason... It was the _only_ thing we could do."

"... I know."

"You _had_ to do it, Emma."

"I know..."

"Then..."

"But, I have to do _this,_ too..."

The blonde whispers, taking hold of the Queen's hand and guiding it towards herself so that Regina rests her palm gently against the soft swell of her breast.

Dark eyes flash with uneasy understanding and Regina croaks huskily.

"What are you doing...?"

"Take it."

"What are you-"

"-You need to take it. You need to split it."

"Emma, I-"

"-Don't lecture me on this. I've had time to think, and I've made up my mind... You of _all_ people should know it's pointless to argue with me once I've done that..."

"My dear, such a thing is _impossible!_ "

"Has it ever been done?"

"No!"

"... Then how could you know that?"

Frowning- dark coals scanning hollowed cheeks, protruding collarbones, and the bloody nick marring arched brows- the brunette places her finger gently beneath the younger woman's chin to force her to keep eye contact.

"I _don't_ know it... But what _if_ it can't be done? Am I supposed to find that out by wrenching you in two and being left with pieces I can't fix?"

"If you don't, I'll tie you to this goddamn bed if I have to and take it myself... And _then_ if it doesn't work, you'll be stuck with me collapsed all over you until someone realises they haven't seen us in a while and pays you a visit... Is _that_ what you want?"

"... I refuse to answer such a ridiculous question..."

"... It will work, Regina. It _has_ to."

"Why? _Why_ does it 'have' to. Because you _want_ it to?"

"Yes."

"Emma-"

"-I want it to... And it's _my_ heart, and I should be able to do what I want with it, and give it to who I like!"

"And I _appreciate_ that, but you're not offering me half of your _KitKat_! This is your _heart_ you're talking about!"

"... I would be _much_ less likely to offer you half of a KitKat..."

The blonde states levelly, her expression damningly calm as she returns the Queen's chaotic stare. Swallowing apprehensively, she tightens her grip on the brunette's wrist and pushes her hand more forcefully against her breast.

"Please, Regina... You _need_ a heart. Even if it's just a _piece_ of one. You need to be able to _feel_. Trust me... I spent a whole lot of years doing my best not to feel a goddamn thing. It won't do you any good... It just makes you bitter. Before the curse broke, things were different; they sucked. I get it, because they sucked for _me_ too. We both wanted the same thing, and all it meant is that the other couldn't _have_ it... But that's _changed_. You told me back in that shithole that you wanted things to change for the _better_ ; that you wanted it more than _anything_. Well, so do _I_. Things might be awkward for a while, but I also believe- truly believe- that things could be really _good_... And after all that sucking... You need to be able to feel that with more than just your brain, or understanding, or whatever.

You need to feel it in your _heart_.

Otherwise we really _should_ have just drawn straws."

"... But if it doesn't work..."

"... Then you'll tell the others it was belated shock. Mary Margaret saw how things were; she'll know not to assume foul play."

"I don't _care_ about what the _others_ think! I care about what happens if I split your heart in two and wind up with you strewn out on my bedroom floor!"

"Well, I've lost weight, as you keep reminding me; you'll be able to drag me somewhere more convenient until-"

"- _Emma!_ "

"...I'm not going to _die_. That would make a _terrible_ end to our little story, when this could just be the beginning..."

"... R-rather poetic for you?"

"Yes, you better act fast. I seem to be coming down with something. You wouldn't want to catch it."

The Sheriff states with wide eyes and a deadly serious note to her voice until she smiles wearily. Laughing tearily, the brunette nods and presses her fingers down just a little.

"You better promise you're not going to give out on me..."

"Cross half of my heart."

"You're an idiot..."

"That, too, might be infectious. I take no responsibility for- _Ah!_ "

The blonde closes her eyes and clenches her teeth as the Queen pushes her hand into delicate flesh and closes her fingers around the latter's heart. Pulling back slowly, she runs her other hand up beneath soft wool and runs her thumb soothingly over the base of the Sheriff's ribs.

"Shh... I thought you could handle a little pain..."

"You surprised me!"

"Really?... I haven't been able to shut you _up_ about the subject for about five minutes now."

The brunette smirks, studying the Sheriff's heart with open interest.

"... Don't make me go sixty/forty on you..."

The younger woman growls, before adopting a rather more sedate composure. Smiling thinly, she nods at the glowing vessel in the Mayor's hand and addresses her quietly

"Go on... Don't wait for it to go cold... Do it... But do it quickly."

"...You're scared..."

"Ha! _Me_? Never..."

"... Must just be me then."

"Yeah... Must be..."

"... I love you..."

"Oh, y-you soppy... S-soppy b-b... Just _do_ it already!"

The blonde chokes, wiping at her cheeks irritably.

Swallowing, and casting her attention down to the eery glow in her hand, the darker woman bites her lip, before twisting Sheriff's heart briskly in two. Snapping her attention back up as she holds a half in each palm, her breathing comes out in desperate bursts as she studies the paler woman raptly.

"E-Emma?"

The younger woman sits with her eyes closed and her complexion alarmingly ashen, breathing shallowly.

"Emma, please, are you-"

"-bitchin'..."

The blonde croaks, her long hair covering her face. Letting out a low cry of partial relief, Regina scoops unruly tresses out of the way and kisses the Sheriff firmly; pressing her hand and its offering purposefully to the younger woman's chest to become engulfed once more. Sensing a deepening of blonde's initially weak reception, she sobs as she feels Emma close her hand over the remaining half of her curious gift and guide it gently to the Queen's own breast.

When it pierces the surface, the brunette opens her eyes in surprise; an overwhelming sensation of pure, almost blinding light seeming to fill her until she's not sure she can keep such intensity inside her.

She opens her mouth to say so- or perhaps to scream- and feels some of that dazzling essence escape her lips to be swallowed by the blonde.

Shared.

"I.. I... Are you _alright!_?"

Trembling hands clutch at the younger woman's cheeks as the Mayor pulls back to regard her frantically. The blonde offers a slow smile in return, chuckling lightly.

"I seem to be... Though you better be prepared to finish what you just started..."

Letting out an exasperated bark of laughter of her own, Regina shakes her head; pulling the Sheriff into her and embracing her tightly, before holding her out at arm's length and winking sultrily

"All in good time, my dear... But first... Come help me in the kitchen."

"I thought we agreed to feed ourselves?"

"True... But we have to _prepare_ things first... And I promise you, I'll make it worth your while."

"... You're not just talking about the _food_ anymore, _are_ you, Your Majesty?"

"I suppose you're about to find out."


End file.
